


Inconvenient Arrangments

by RenkonNairu



Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Hordak, Bisexual Male Character, Casual Gay Sex, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fellatio, Gay Sex, Gen, Heterosexual Sex, Hordak was married to Keldor, Horde Prime Is His Own Warning, Horde Prime is a creeper, Imp is Hordak's son from a previous marriage, M/M, Political Alliances, Political Intrigue, Princess Prom, Self-Indulgent, TW: Mentions of Miscarriage, TW: mentions of forced pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, and he loved him, slow burn?, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 128,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: Hordak and Entrapta are forced to marry. Overall, things could have been worse.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Entrapta & Imp (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Hordak & Horde Prime (She-Ra), Hordak & Imp (She-Ra), Hordak/Skeletor (past)
Comments: 569
Kudos: 406





	1. A Good Day

He double checked the number on the scale before recording it, hesitant to believe the positive result. There had been no further weight loss in three-hundred and sixty-six consecutive days. He had gone a whole year and a day without his cachexia advancing his condition. Prince Imperial Hec-Tor, younger brother to the current Horde Prime, decided to consider that a win. Better than a win. This was a victory! Feeling a level of confidence he was well aware was inflated, he made sure the data was saved to the app he used to track his personal health on his datapad. 

Today was going to be a good day. 

In his office, his secretaries had already organized all the business for the day, arranging the datacards in neat stacks by relevance. Of course, Imperial projects that were in service to the Great Horde Empire and –by extension- his brother the current Horde Prime, were front and center in the middle of his desk. But there was also his own personal business ventures, household business mostly dealing with salary and requests from staff that cared for his son, Imp, and, finally, one sad lonely little data card off to the side the only one in its stack. That one had to be in reference to the search for Keldor. 

Hec-Tor picked it up, glaring at it with mingled hope and dread. Then opened a drawer in his desk and put it out of sight for the moment. He already knew what it was going to say anyway. The same thing all the updates on the search had been telling him for years. ‘There is still no sign of Prince Keldor.’ ‘We have been unable to locate Prince Keldor.’ ‘I’m sorry, your Highness, but it is looking as if your husband is-‘

But Hec-Tor would not dwell on that today. Today was going to be a good day. 

Horde Prime was planning some big event in the palace at the end of the week –although he had not yet briefed his brother on what this event would be celebrating. After morning business, Hec-Tor toured the training yard to inspect the troops. If Horde Prime was planning an event, then security had to be in top form. He even felt well enough to jog a lap around the training yard himself. 

The sun was mild, the air not too dry, dust particles at an all-time low, uncommonly good weather for Horde World, so Hec-Tor had his lunch served outside in the garden. He skimmed over memos as he chewed a simple sandwich with a side of vitamin supplements and medications. The usually harsh sun gently warming his skin, with an awning bearing the insignia of the Imperial Horde keeping him cool. 

Today really was a good day. 

Imp came dashing through the bushes, a smile on his face as his head was turned looking behind him. Running on all fours like a feral child instead of the Prince of Imperial decent that he was. Hec-Tor was about to reprimand his son for carrying on like a common street urchin, but then he heard the familiar clunking of a portable breathing tank strapped to the exterior of prosthetic armor. Sure enough, Zed came jogging around the bush Imp had dashed out of. Breathing heavily, fogging up the mask covering his mouth and nasal cavity, the respirator strapped to his back humming loudly in its efforts to compensate for his bodies deeper and heavier breaths. The two boys were playing. They had also noticed that today was a good day. 

Imp let Zed catch up to him. 

The other boy tapped the tip of one Imp’s wings. “Tag.” He gasped. “You are it.”

Zed turned and began hobbling away in the direction they came, the tank of his respirator clunking against his armor with every step. 

Imp jumped up on the table –like a feral street urchin again- and stole a triangle of his father’s sandwich in lieu of counting to ten. 

“Do not overtax your cousin.” Hec-Tor commanded his son. Zed might be having fun now, but if he exerted himself, the boy could suffer a seizure. Hec-Tor suffered from a similar condition, except that when he over exerted himself he just passed out. Zed, however, would not just collapse unconcious, he would seize and convulse causing more damage to his already frail body. 

Imp knew this just as well any anyone. He nodded at his father before hopping off the table and chasing after Zed. 

Watching his son dash away, Hec-Tor couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. It was a rare thing to see both children playing outside. Looks like it was a good health day for everyone. 

After lunch was back to work. 

New reports had come in since inspecting the troops. Rebellion in the Denebria System. Uprisings in the mines on Krytis. Queen Elmora was raising the price of phitanium. Blight in the Imperial orchards on Antares. All the problems of a large and far-reaching galactic Empire. Hec-Tor arranged everything in order of importance to the Empire, prioritizing each issue by its impact on the heart of the Empire –Horde World. 

There was always at least one rebellion going on at any given time somewhere in the Empire. Rolling his eyes, Hec-Tor moved that datacard to the bottom of the stack. Nobody cared about Denebria anyway. The orchards on Antares did grow fruits that many of the residents of Horde World enjoyed, but the capital imported food stuffs from all over the Empire it was not like they were at risk of starvation from one food-producing world suffering a blight. The Mondor mines on Krytis did produce valuable ores, but it was mostly a penal colony, the uprising would have to be put down, but nothing came out of Krytis that was so valuable he had to drop everything and send out an armada. Queen Elmora raising the price of phitanium, however, that was a big deal. 

Phitanium was the hardest substance in the universe. The Horde’s space ships were made out of it. Their weapons were made out of it. Their bots were made out of it. Hell! The royal family’s personal armor was made out of it. The armor Hec-Tor was wearing right now was made out of it. And Elmora knew it. A planetary Queen extorting the great Horde Empire was something Hec-Tor could not allow. The fact that they needed the resource aside, it set a bad precedent! The Empire did not negotiate. The Empire did not concede. The Empire commanded. 

Hec-Tor took swift and firm action. Feeling confident in the outcome. 

Overall, an easy workload. 

Today was a good day. 

As evening gathered, the weather turned stormy. The shield wall was raised around the city to keep out the worst of the sand. Shutter plating was locked over the windows of the Imperial palace. Even so, Hec-Tor could still head the ‘plik-plik-plik’ of sand and pebbles impacting the armored sheeting. Horde World was a harsh planet. 

Hec-Tor was in the middle of reminding his son that he could not have dessert until he not only finished his food, but took his supplements and medications as well. Hec-Tor demonstrated for the child by swallowing his own assortment of pills and washing them down with water. Imp was unmoved by the display, pushed the cup of medications off the table where they spilled on the floor, and hissed at his father. 

A servant rushed to bend down and pick them up, while a second one left to fetch a fresh dose. 

That was when Horde Prime walked in. 

He frowned at the display, as if his own child had never been fussy about taking medications and got worked up into a tizzy. 

“Brother!” Hec-Tor stood from the table, assuming a straight-backed and disciplined military rest. (Imp similarly mimicked his father’s pose, although his was far less polished.) One must always show the proper respect to the Emperor of the Known Universe. “I was unaware we had a dinner together. It was not on my agenda for the day.”

“We do not.” Horde Prime informed him. 

This did not give Hec-Tor leave to relax. 

“I simply came to inform you that your fiancée will be arriving tomorrow and that I have taken the liberty of rearranging your schedule leading up to your wedding at the end of the week.” Prime said matter-of-factly. As if this was in reference to an item of business Hec-Tor should already know about. 

The younger man only stared at his brother. “My what? Leading up to my what!?” His mouth hung open for a few moments, sure he had misheard. Or misunderstood. Surely Horde Prime meant his own fiancée and his own wedding, not Hec-Tor’s. “But- I am already married.”

The Emperor frowned. Displeased with his brother’s response. “Keldor has been gone for years. It is time to conclude that –if he is not dead- he is certainly not coming back. You, however, are still a Prince of this Empire and have a duty to form alliances and strengthen our powerbase. There is no stronger alliance than the contract of marriage.”

“The search for Keldor is still on-going.” Insisted Hec-Tor. 

“The search for Keldor has been ‘on-going’ for years and yielded no result except wasted resources and man-power.” Prime turned his attention to Hec-Tor’s son, a hybrid-child created by Keldor’s magic. “Nephew, how old are you?”

Chancing an unsure glance at his father first, Imp held up five fingers. 

“It has been five years that you’ve been searching for Keldor.” Prime informed his brother. “You are not going to find him and he is not going to come back. Legally, I can declare him dead. As far as I’m concerned, you are a widower and can be remarried.”

At least Prime was not threatening to annul the marriage all together and render Imp a bastard –effectively removing him from the line of succession. But Hec-Tor still glared with displeasure. “Anillis, please… I do not wish to remarry.”

“What you wish is immaterial.” Prime informed him. “You will do your duty as a Prince of this Empire and remarry.” 

That was final. 

The Emperor had made up his mind and made his decree. Hec-Tor got his chance to voice his complains. His complaints were heard. Then dismissed. Now it was time to serve his Empire. 

Hec-Tor lowered his eyes. “As it pleases my Emperor.”

With a nod of satisfaction, Horde Prime left. 

Imp scooted his chair closer to his father, placing one blue hand over the older man’s. The servant returned with the new dose of Imp’s medication and the child took it without fuss, hoping this might improve his father’s mood. 

Hec-Tor stroked the child’s throat, helping the large pills down easier. “I am fine.” He assured his son. Then sighed, slouching in his chair in a way that was unbecoming of royalty. “And today had been such a good day too.”


	2. First Impressions

“Entrapta! Entrapta! Grr!” Catra threw her arms up in exasperation, fur of her tail frizzing out, fangs barred with a snarl to vent her frustration. 

Their ship had already started its descent to the planet’s surface and Entrapta wasn’t even dressed. 

That wasn’t accurate. 

Entrapta was dressed. As a mechanic. A menial worker. 

Not the sovereign ruler of an industrial titan like Dryl that she was. 

She could not meet her future spouse –never mind that- she could not meet the Emperor of the Known Universe and his brother, looking like the person they had their servants call to service the palace ventilation systems. 

The ship gave a violent lurch as they hit a pocket of turbulence in Horde World’s atmosphere and Catra was thrown off balance. She landed on her feet –she always landed on her feet- but the trunk containing Entrapta’s wardrobe was thrown across the cabin, spilling the Princess’ gowns all over. Catra heaved another snarl. She longed for a simpler life, a war-orphan, or an underappreciated soldier. Anything had to be better than a lady-in-waiting to a tech Princess who thought measuring the pH balance of the atmosphere and how it affected the ship’s hull was more important that making sure she was ready to meet the Emperor of the Known Universe, or her future spouse. 

“Hey, don’t worry so much.” Scorpia, another Princess and Entrapta’s friend, bent down to help Catra pick up the strewn clothing. “Entrapta’s a little quirky, but she agreed to do this because she knows it’s important. She’ll be ready in time.”

Catra sighed. In defeat, not relief. Scorpia was nice, but she did not seem to grasp the importance of first impressions. Entrapta was actually really amazing –once a person got to know her- but she made a terrible first impression. 

Then it was Scorpia’s turn to sigh. Clasping her pincers together –still holding one of Entrapta’s dresses- and staring out through one of the view ports at the dusty and barren landscape of Horde World. “Isn’t it romantic.” She gushed. “Two people, crossing the stars to meet. Strangers coming together for the good of a nation. At first, just for duty. But then! A tender glance! A gentle touch! Gazes locking… and sparks fly… It’s true love!”

Catra just stared at her. Dead-eyed. Unimpressed and unmoved. 

“It could happen!” Scorpia insisted. 

“It’ll never happen if we can’t get Entrapta ready by the time ship lan-“ Catra was cut off as the ship gave another lurch as the pilot decelerated for their final approach to the Imperial landing site. Catra only hissed, showing more teeth. 

“I’ll help with Entrapta.” Scorpia nodded, realizing maybe Catra’s concerns were more legitimate and pressing than she originally thought. 

But the moment the ship did actually landed, Entrapta disappeared to explore the alien palace that was the heart of the Horde Empire and Catra had no idea where she went. 

…

Hec-Tor bared his teeth at the scale, displeased by the result. He managed to go a full year and a day without any weight loss from his condition and in the span of only twenty-four hours had somehow managed to lose two-hundred grams of body mass. 

He stepped off the scale, waited for the number to clear, then tried again. Double checking the result. When the number showed the same. He triple checked. When all three attempts yielded the same result, he was forced to record the data in his health tracker app. He was losing weight again. 

That hadn’t happened since Keldor disappeared. Hec-Tor twisted the ring he still wore on the third finger of his left hand. Keldor’s ring. In another few days, he would have to take it off and replace it with a different ring. Entrapta’s ring. Slipping the band off his finger, he looked at the inscription. ‘By the Power…’ Keldor never really explained what it meant beyond ‘it’s just an Eternian thing’. Slipping the ring back on his finger, Hec-Tor stealed himself to face the day. 

Today was going to be a bad day. 

His intended’s ship landed some time in the early hours of the morning. Hec-Tor was glad he was not made to greet her first thing upon her arrival. He would not have been in the best of sorts to make an acceptable first impression. He was rather confident that he would not make any kind of good first impression at all. But then, he thought the same thing before his marriage to Keldor and in the end, first impressions turned out not to matter all that much. 

Hec-Tor was younger back then. He was sullen and quiet and had adhered to protocol as best as one could while also looking at their feet and not making eye-contact. While Keldor was unlike anyone Hec-Tor had ever met up to that point. Instead of reciprocating the ceremonial bow with one of his own, the Eternian Prince had laughed –just a short, half stifled laugh behind his hand, but still a laugh- and asked Hec-Tor if he did more than posture and pose. Horde Prime frowned in displeasure, and Keldor’s father, King Miro, gave his son a strongly worded reprimand. But it succeeded in reminding Hec-Tor that the marriage had been arranged for Keldor just as much as it had been for him. They were both of them being forced into this and that was one thing they had in common. 

Remembering that, Hec-Tor reminded himself that this was arranged for his current intended just as much as it was for him. While a small platoon of servants combed and gelled his hair, dabbed at his cheeks with foundation and concealer, lined his eyes with kohl, painted gloss on his lips, fitted decorative plugs in his ports, and just generally groomed him to look his best, Hec-Tor read over the dossier on his intended. 

Princess Entrapta. While she kept the title of ‘Princess’ in reality, she was the Queen of her territory. She was the sovereign and sole ruler of Dryl, which was not its own planet, but a small mountain nation located on Etheria. 

Hec-Tor paused at that. Recognizing the name. Etheria was a planet that shared a solar system with Eternia –Keldor’s home planet. Entrapta and Keldor were practically neighbors! However, unlike Eternia, which was unified under one monarch, Etheria was a confederacy of multiple independent states. 

Dryl was small in terms of land coverage. But it was an industrial titan that specialized in weapons manufacture. Weapons that combined highly advanced technology with complicated magic. Weapons that could be powered by their wielder’s ‘fighting spirit’ rather than limited battery packs that needed to be recharged. Armors and shieldings that were just as resilient and strong as phitanium, but easier to shape, more efficient to manufacture, and –best of all- cheaper since they wouldn’t have to pay Queen Elmora’s premiums. Heck! Dryl even made bots that could be sent into battle in place of living soldiers. 

That explained why Horde Prime wanted her in the family. 

With Entrapta married to the Emperor’s own brother, her loyalty would be to the Empire –which her children might have a chance to inherit one day. That would ensure that Dryl would not be selling their weapons to the Empire’s enemies. 

Scrolling through the file, Hec-Tor realized that the vast majority of the information was on Dryl and its arms industry. There was very little information on Princess Entrapta herself. Hell! The file didn’t even include a picture of her. 

Hec-Tor sighed. Of course, the file wouldn’t contain much information on her. Horde Prime did not arrange this marriage to make his brother happy. He didn’t care about Princess Entrapta the person. All Horde Prime cared about were the weapons and power she could bring to the Empire. Who cared if Hec-Tor was miserable for the rest of his life? Not every arranged marriage could be as lucky as his first one to Keldor. Not everyone could fall in love with their intended. 

His chair was turned around and Hec-Tor examined his reflection. They did everything but put contacts in his eyes to give him pupils. He sighed. This was far more opulent than his brother made him dress up for his first engagement. Horde Prime must really, really want those weapons. 

With a sigh, Hec-Tor stood from the seat. He needed a break from all the primping and preening. Maybe get some real work done. There were a few items from yesterday that he never managed to get around to. At the time he thought there would be time to deal with them today. That was before his brother took the liberty of changing his entire agenda for the rest of the week –and his life. At the very least, he needed to address the blight on Antares. Horde Prime probably wouldn’t let him dispatch soldiers to either Krytis or Denebria until after the wedding, the Emperor would want to keep the military close until then.

But if he could just get to his office and do something productive. 

Anything productive. 

Even if it was just hitting ‘read’ on a non-critical memo. 

He stalked down the corridors of the residential wing to his office, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown, with a head full of so much product he looked sculpted out of paste. 

A door to his left burst open and Imp dashed out, in a similar state of half-dressed but very well make-uped. He saw his father standing in the corridor and skirted around to hide behind the older man’s legs. Just in time for a trio of servants to follow –tripping- out of the same room after the little… imp. 

Imp hissed at them. 

Only one seemed brave enough to approach, addressing Hec-Tor. “Your Highness, we are trying to make the Prince ready to meet your intended and he is not cooperating. Could you… speak to him, please?”

Hec-Tor looked down at the child clinging to his calves. Imp glared up at him. He did not like playing dress-up any more than Hec-Tor did. 

“If I have to suffer through this, so do you.” He informed his son. 

The boy gave a screech of disagreement, abandoned his father as an ally, and climbed up a wall instead. Imp shot his father a scathing look of betrayal before wiping half the makeup and cream from his face and smearing it on the expensive wallpaper. Then he disappeared into an air vent. 

“Imp!” Hec-Tor shouted after him. Forget ‘feral’ that child could be outright wild sometimes. He got it from Keldor. He was also always a little wild. 

Forget doing something productive. Now all Hec-Tor cared about was finding his son in the complicated and labyrinthine ventilation systems of the Imperial palace. 

He turned suddenly anxious eyes and misplaced anger on the trio that had been grooming Imp or the introductions. “Find him!”

They ran to comply. 

Hec-Tor headed in the opposite direction, long ears piqued. Listening for any movement in the walls that could indicate his errant son. Imp was spry and fast. Of all the members of the Kur family that Hec-Tor had known –both living and dead- Imp was by far the most healthy. His physical defects were extra limbs in the form of wings –that actually functioned!- and a pointed tail. He was also a little under sized for his age, but that just made it easier for him to pull stunts like this! 

But the worst part was that Hec-Tor knew, if Keldor were here, he would be egging their child on. Encouraging Imp to make trouble and be an agent of chaos. Keldor would think it was funny. Keldor would be proud. 

Damn. Hec-Tor made himself sad. 

Before their wedding, during a heavily chaperoned stroll through the grounds of the castle in Eternos, Keldor not only convinced Hec-Tor to ditch their escorts and sneak out, but actually succeeded in doing it! Climbing up a tree close to the castle wall and pushing Hec-Tor over it before the Imperial Prince even knew what was happening. Keldor then took Hec-Tor on a tour of the back-allies of Eternos, a side of the city he was sure no Prince was meant to see. 

Imp definitely got this rebelliousness from his other father. It certainly didn’t come from Hec-Tor! 

He came to an intersection in the corridors and froze, closing his eyes, listening hard for any scuffling or scurrying sounds that could be Imp trying to evade him. Just barely picking up a faint sound, Hec-Tor made a turn a followed the sound out of the private residential wing and into the business section. If anyone dared give him an odd look for stalking the halls in what was essentially a bathrobe, he snarled at them. 

The moment Hec-Tor found an access panel large enough for him, Imp was going to be in so much trouble! 

A louder scuffling in the walls. 

Imp must be closer! 

Hec-Tor leaned against the wall. His ear just a hair’s breadth away from touching the wall –he was still mindful of all the cosmetic work he’d sat through already and did not want to sit through it again. 

He followed the scuffling sound. Listening to the metal of the vents shift with the weight of a body. Funny, Imp was never heavy enough to make the vent paneling shift and bow before. But then, Imp was a growing boy. 

He followed the movement in the walls he was almost in the public areas of the palace now. A place he did not want to be walking around in a bathrobe and little else. But he wanted to find his son more. 

Then he heard Imp give a startled and confused little chirp. And his journey moving in the walls came to a halt. Now the scuffling in the wall was located in only one spot and it was fast and frantic. 

“Imp?” Hec-Tor called, hoping the boy could hear him through the drywall and vent plating. “Are you stuck?”

Imp couldn’t answer, of course. While he might be the most physically healthy member of the Kur family, he was also born mute. His vocal cords not forming right during gestation in the vitrine. The only sounds he could make were guttural chirps and squawks. With a wall between them cutting off any visual communication, there was no way for Imp to make his situation and his needs known. Hec-Tor just had to guess and hope he took the appropriate action. 

He grabbed the first person he saw, not caring if they were palace staff, or a visiting dignitary (or extended staff) there for his wedding. “You! Get me the head of palace maintenance! Immediately!”

Not sure what else to do, it was all the hapless passerby could do to nod an affirmative and run away the moment Hec-Tor let go of them. 

Another squak of dismay drifted through the wall and Hec-Tor once again pressed his ear to the wall. This time he did smear his makeup, but he didn’t care. Some things were more important. “Imp? What is going on in there? Are you injured?”

The only answer he got was a string of confused chittering and trills. 

“Imp!?” 

People were casting uncertain glances at him now. What if mental instability was another of the Prince Imperial’s defects? He was literally yelling at a wall. 

“Oh. Well, hello little guy?” Then another voice drifted through the wall. One Hec-Tor had never heard before. Pitchy and nasal. 

Was this the head of maintenance come to extricate Imp from the wall for him? It had better be! He did not like the idea of a complete stranger being in a dark enclosed space along with his son whom could not communicate in words. 

“Who’s in there?” He demanded. 

“Is that your friend out there?” Asked the voice. “Are you stuck?”

Hec-Tor dragged his talons down the decorative wallpaper. He wanted to see what was going on in there. Who was in there with Imp? What were they doing? 

“Hang on.” Said the other in the wall. “The thing with old castles and palaces like this is that all the ventilation was built in a closed system so that it’s harder to get inside for regular maintenance and service. See how the plating it warped here? Probably happened over the last hundred years by particles that made it past the first battery of filters. I heard the winds on Horde World can carry rocks as big as a fist a hundred kilometers in the air. I know something that big shouldn’t be able to make it through filters, but when the wind can throw it that high, they can also throw it clean through carbon fiber mesh. Something like that bouncing around these vents, no wonder you got your tail stuck in a warped section.”

Was- was the speaker giving Imp –a five year old child- a lecture on engineering? While they were both stuck in a wall!? Who was this person?

“Almost got ya… there!” There was a metallic popping sound. 

Then Imp gave a grateful and relieved little trill. 

Hec-Tor sighed. His son was okay. Still in the vents. But unharmed. 

“I think I saw an outlet over there.” Presumably, the owner of the voice was pointing, but Hec-Tor could not see it. “C’mon. I’ll show you and make sure you don’t get stuck again.”

The shuffling and scuffling began again. This time moving up. To the ceiling. Hec-Tor looked up, trying to follow the sounds with his eyes. 

Then a crack appeared on the ceiling. 

Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no! Didn’t the voice in the wall just say this palace was old! If they were a fully grown adult being, they should not be putting their full weight on the ceiling panels. They were meant to be decorative and cover the unsightly support beams and insulation. They were not meant to hold weight! 

“Oh.” Apparently, the voice realized this too late. “I might have miscalculated the addition of your weight.”

That was the last thing they said before the whole ceiling came caving down. 

A cascade of broken panels and insulation that should have been replaced decades ago came crashing down in the center of the room. Among the debris, a ball of lavender hair came tumbling out. It rolled a few meters away from the main pile. 

The hair slithered. Disentangling itself frown around the body of an alien female. Copper skin and fuchsia-red eyes. Wearing dark purple overalls like a menial worker. Maybe she was the head of maintenance. And held in her gloved arms was Imp. He was fine. Cradled and shielded from the debris by her body and hair. 

“Well, you’re out.” She announced. Then glanced back at the mess in the middle of the room. “Though, I have a feeling I might be in trouble…”

“Give me my son!” Hec-Tor all but snarled at her. 

“Oh. Sure.” She opened her arms and Imp fluttered his wings, flying into his father’s waiting arms. Then the woman paused, as if actually noticing him. “Why are you wearing a bath robe? Oh! Did I drop in on a bathroom!? I’m so sorry! I just wanted to observe the adaptations your architects have made to compensate for the harshness of Horde World. This building is an engineering marvel and I find it fascinating!”

“Who are you?” Demanded the Prince. 

“Oh. Uh,” she twiddled her hair. 

Under any other circumstances he would have found the fact that her hair moved like limbs quite interesting. But at the moment, he was unimpressed. 

“This is a little awkward.” She confessed. “You see, I’m not actually from Horde World. I just came for the wedding. Oh! Maybe I’ll see you there. I should say ‘hi’ at the reception!”

That did not answer his question. 

But then, another voice shouted across the room.

“Entrapta!”

A magicat and a scorpioness came running up to here. 

Entrapta? Did they just call her ‘Entrapta’? As in Princess Entrapta? His intended. The person he was arranged to marry. This dirt-covered, vent-lurking, inelegant, creature could not possibly be the one his brother meant for him to marry! 

“We are so, so sorry!” Said the scorpioness. She lifted ‘Princess Entrapta’ up into her arms. 

“Where have you been!” Snarled the magicat. “Not only are we behind schedule, you’re an absolute mess! You can’t meet a Prince of the Horde Empire looking like this!”

Hec-Tor just stood there, staring at them. Did none of them know who he was?

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The scorpioness said in a much gentler tone. “Maybe the Prince won’t mind. Maybe he likes quirky partners.”

He most certainly did not! 

Well, okay. Keldor was pretty quirky. And Hec-Tor loved him. A lot. But Keldor was special! Just going off this first impression, Hec-Tor was not going to like this purple, prehensile haired, vent germline one bit! 

This marriage was going to be a disaster.


	3. Formal Introductions

The first time Hec-Tor met Keldor, he could barely bring himself to raise his head. Not because his condition was in a progressive phase and he felt faint and might pass out –although, the stress of this arrangement hadn’t done any favors for that- but because he was so utterly miserable, he just didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes. 

Anillis –Horde Prime, he must call him ‘Horde Prime’ now- dragged Hec-Tor halfway across the universe to meet the person he would be marrying. The eldest son of the King of Eternia. A Prince, equal to him in status if not power of their respective nations. 

Hec-Tor kept his spine straight and his shoulders back when he gave the formal greetings, but his eyes were down. He did not look at his fiancé once during the introductions. 

That is, until he heard a stifled laugh. Hec-Tor looked up to see his intended with his hand over his mouth, trying to dampen the sound. But he couldn’t help it. The amusement reached all the way to his eyes. Brown eyes, a brown so dark they might as well have been black. They practically sparkled with humor and formless, unfocussed mischief. 

Keldor did not look like the rest of his family. 

In his dossier, Hec-Tor read that his mother was King Miro’s concubine, not his legal wife. A Gar woman, one of the many blue skinned races in the universe. Keldor had his mother’s dusky blue skin and straight black hair. An ebony-black that shined in the light of Eternia’s sun. He was not what Hec-Tor was expecting and he didn’t know what to make of his intended. 

“What’s so funny?” Hec-Tor demanded. No one dared laugh at a Prince of the Horde Empire. 

“You are.” Keldor answered honest, still smiling. “You’re so stiff, like one of those windup soldier toys my brother still plays with. Can you do anything else besides posture and pose?”

Hec-Tor sputtered something as incomprehensible as it was ineloquent. 

Next to him, he felt his brother stiffen, chest rumbling with an effort to suppress a snarl. “Is this what you teach your children, Miro? To insult their guests.” 

“Keldor!” King Miro turned to his son, more temper in his voice than Hec-Tor felt was necessary considering the offense. High temper, with an undercurrent of exasperation. Apparently, this was an attitude that Prince Keldor took often and King Miro was exhausted trying to teach his son respect. 

“Apologies. I was simply overcome by Prince Imperial Hec-Tor’s level of discipline. I can only hope to one day be so well trained.” Keldor gave an overly exaggerated bow, lowering his head, ebony hair falling over one shoulder, hiding the fact that he was still smirking with amusement. 

Hec-Tor felt a small smirk pull at his lips. Imperial protocol was stiff and confining, but no one had ever mocked it to his face before. Keldor was bold and unafraid. 

…

The second time Hec-Tor met Princess Entrapta, the only thing he could think was that she didn’t even clean-up well. 

Her hair and face were washed, and she was not wearing that dreadful set of overalls with the straps hanging down like some slovenly plumber. She was wearing a dress, pale lilac, with an empire waste, short puffed sleeves, and a satin ribbon waistband. The dress was lovely. Or, rather, it would have been lovely if it weren’t for one random stain on the yoke of the bodice. Hec-Tor couldn’t tell if it was engine grease, space ship coolant, or gear lubricant. None would surprise him. He could even form a rather clear and vivid mental image of her tinkering with some dirty piece of machinery while wearing her gown. 

She was even still wearing a welding mask and work gloves! 

After the chaos of their first meeting, the formal introductions were postponed until the following day. The context changed from a formal meeting in the throne room with pomp and pageantry, to an informal breakfast. The gardens would have been better, but the weather had turned bad, with sands washing over the shieldwall and covering the grounds in clouds of brown and yellow dust. 

So, they ate in a parlor just off from the gardens. The doors sealed tight and the shutter plates lowered firmly over the windows. The only sounds were the ‘plink, plink, plink’ of sand and pebbles against the shutter plates. And Entrapta’s talking. 

“…it really in ingenious.” She was saying. “Horde World shifts classification between an M-Class planet and a Y-Class planet depending on the point in its solar rotation and climate. It’s harsh and hard for organisms to thrive on, yet, your engineers have made your cities not only livable, but thriving! The shieldwall that goes up every time there’s a storm not only protect the city from the most destructive gales, but also take the kinetic energy of the storm and transforms it into energy to power the city. It’s clean, natural power, and one-hundred percent renewable!”

Hec-Tor rolled his eyes. She was stating things that were common knowledge to any resident of Horde World. But Brother seemed to be hanging on her every word. Intently listening to her explain his own home’s technology to him. Hec-Tor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again. If Horde Prime enjoyed her company so much, maybe he should be the one marrying her. 

“Finding renewable or self-sustaining energy sources is one of the hurdles of weapons designs.” Entrapta continued, gesturing vaguely with her hair. “That’s one of the reasons why I find magic so fascinating. They say that any technology that’s sufficiently advanced would look like magic until it’s understood. But I disagree. That implies that magic can’t be understood. But there are countless people all over the universe who not only understand but practice magic! And different kinds of magic too! My hypothesis is that magic, like science, is just another method. Hypothesis, experiment, results, repeat, calculate. Magic has to have a method too, and if I can combine that method, I could make weapons powered by magic instead of coaxium, or tibana gas, or taydenite.”

Absentmindedly, Hec-Tor twisted the old wedding band on his finger, Keldor had been a sorcerer. He understood magic. Hec-Tor did not. But neither did Entrapta seem to either. At least, Hec-Tor heard her talk about anything but weapons, robotics, and engineering since she arrived. But only mentioning magic in the context that she was ‘interested’ in it. 

“That’s so interesting.” Horde Prime grinned. “Isn’t that interesting, brother?”

“Riveting.” Hec-Tor sipped his breakfast tea. 

Prime frowned at him, then kicked the younger man under the table. 

Hec-Tor glared at him. 

Prime flicked his eyes to Entrapta then back. A silent command to ‘talk to her!’

Hec-Tor sighed. “Was your journey peaceful, Princess?”

“Oh, it was great!” She spread her arms wide, hair spreading with them. “We passed by this energy cloud that turned out to be a sentient being, and almost got caught in the shockwave of Krypton exploding as we passed the Rao system, and were nearly hit by a stray energy blast from Namek. It was so exciting!”

That was a string of utter nonsense. There were no such planets as ‘Namek’ or ‘Krypton’ and energy clouds were not sentient. Hec-Tor shot his brother a pleading look. Entrapta might be bringing powerful weapons to the Empire, but the woman herself was clearly insane –and not in the traditional way that members of their family sometimes were. 

Horde Prime met his younger brother’s eyes, smiled, then stood from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have affairs to attend to. Brother. Princess.”

He left. 

Hec-Tor suppressed the urge to scoff. Horde Prime rarely attended to anything himself. He had a battery of aids and officials to attend to things for him. Hell! Most of his important ‘Emperor duties’ were delegated to Hec-Tor anyway. 

A silence descended over the table. 

Hec-Tor finished his tea. A servant appeared with a fresh teapot, then disappeared again. 

Hec-Tor continued to sip at the new tea. 

“I’m not good at this.” Entrapta blurted out. 

It was such a non-sequitur that Hec-Tor was a bit thrown. He wasn’t sure if he’d missed part of an earlier conversation or not. He blinked at her, hoping she would elaborate. 

“Getting along.” She did elaborate. “With people. People don’t understand me, and I don’t understand them either. I’m sorry if this is awkward.”

“Arrangements such as this are always awkward.” He informed her without inflection. “You are the ruler of your nation. No one is forcing you to do this. So, why are you?”

“Oh, well that’s easy!” She smiled at him as if it were a silly question. “Your brother promised me unlimited resources for my research! Just imagine the advancements I could make with the near-unlimited resources of the Horde Empire at my disposal! And all I have to do to get it is sign a contract with you. I’d say it’s a small price to pay!”

Hec-Tor just continued to stare at her. His teacup, halfway to his lips was paused forgotten in his hand. “It’s more than just a simple contract! You are aware of what marriage entails, are you not?”

Before an answer to this question could even be attempted, something dropped down from the chandelier. Fluttering down on dusky-blue wings to land with feet on the table. 

“Imp!” Hec-Tor barked. 

“Oh. Hello again.” Entrapta smiled. “You’re the boy from the vent.”

Imp made several quick motions with his hands, introducing himself to her properly. Since she saved him the previous day, he decided he liked her. 

The Princess only stared at him with incomprehension. “I don’t know what that means.”

Hec-Tor grabbed the empty chair Prime had vacated and dragged it over to his side of the table. “Sit down.”

The child complied, sitting in the seat next to his father. Then made series of quick hand motions at the older man. 

Hec-Tor sighed. “He wants me to tell you that his name is Imp and he thinks you’re ‘cool’.” 

“Oh. Thanks!” She smiled as if she was not used to people thinking she was ‘cool’. Entrapta rested an elbow on the table. “So, you like to hide in vents too huh? I agree, it’s the best way to get around if you don’t like being bothered by people or having to answer a lot of really pointless questions.”

Imp signed that it was great that he was still small enough to fit in the vents and that he liked to use them to hide from his tutors (something that Hec-Tor was not aware he did). Entrapta, however, did not understand this, so Imp signed to his father to translate for him. 

Instead, the Prince only glared at the boy. “Why have your tutors not notified me of these antics?” 

Imp looked away awkwardly. Guiltily signing, ‘No reason…’ The actual reason was he was also intercepting the messages and datacards before they could make it to his father’s desk. Being able to fit through the palace vents was also great for spy work and espionage! (Not that Imp yet knew the word ‘espionage’.)

Hec-Tor just massaged his forehead, feeling a stress headache threatening. Luckily, he did not feel lightheaded or faint, so there was no danger of him passing out. 

“So, Imp is your son.” Entrapta made another attempt at conversation. As she already warned him, she was not good at it, and had no idea what was too personal. But, asking the person you were going to marry about your future step-child had to be on the list of acceptable, right? 

“Yes.” Confirmed Hec-Tor. “My son from my previous marriage.” He placed extra stress on the last two words as a subtle reminded that marriage was more than just a contract. Marriage came with a certain expectation, and –if she didn’t already have any heirs of her own- certain requirements. 

“Hi, Imp, I’m Entrapta.” She waved at the child, her hair mimicking the same motion as her hand. “Imp is such a cute name! Is it a nickname or did your father give it to you?”

‘Imp’ was actually what Keldor kept calling the little hybrid creature when he was still in the vitrine. Hec-Tor was sure he didn’t mean it to be a real name –Keldor probably would have chosen an Eternian or a Gar name for their son- but after Keldor disappeared, Hec-Tor couldn’t imagine calling his son anything else but what Keldor had been calling him for months. Brother always disapproved. He felt it was not commanding and imposing enough for a Prince Imperial of the Kur Dynasty. Ha! As if ‘Zed’ was any better!

“It is his name.” Hec-Tor informed her with a completely straight face, expression impassive. 

“Aw…” Entrapta smiled. “Your dad’s secretly a softy.”

How rude! Hec-Tor sipped his tea to hide his frown. 

“Imp, go terrorize someone else for the moment.” He commanded the boy. “Entrapta and I have to discuss subjects you are too young to hear.”

Imp made a rude sign that Hec-Tor knew none of his tutors would have taught him. Then flew away. 

He waited to make sure the child was truly gone and not just lurking somewhere where he could eavesdrop. When Hec-Tor was satisfied that his son was no longer within hearing, he pushed his tea to the side and leaned over the table, making eye-contact with Entrapta. 

“You are aware that marriage is not just a simple legal contract.” He informed her. “Both of us will be expected to-“ here he hesitated, unsure how to phrase what he was trying to say, the need for clear communication battling with the modesty that had been drilled into his since his infancy “…perform…” no, that was not clear at all. Time to try a different tactic. “A marriage is not legal until it has been consummated. I do not know how things are done on Etheria, but in the Empire we have a specific tradition-“

“Beilager.” She nodded without inflection. Then reached up a tendril of hair to slide her welding mask down over her face to hide her expression. “I know.”

Of course she would know if she was the one to agree to the arrangement. If he was given a dossier on Dryl, then she must have her own files on the Empire. She struck him as the sort of woman that would do her research. She would know that, to confirm the marriage had been consummated, the wedding night would be observed by an Imperial lawyer, the Justice who performs the ceremony, and anyone from the wedding party that wished to witness. 

Hec-Tor closed his eyes, mixed feelings over his first wedding night bubbling to the surface. Brother standing closer to the bed than was probably appropriate, feet planted, arms cross, leering at him. But Keldor took his face in his hands and whispered words of comfort. Made him feel safe. ‘Close your eyes. There’s no one here but us…’ Hec-Tor opened his eyes again and glared challengingly at that expressionless metal mask. “And you are fine with that?”

Still not lifting the mask, Entrapta only shrugged. “It’s just one night.”

Drumming his talons on the table, Hec-Tor studied her. 

Their first meeting was unorthodox and unexpected. At the time, he was more concerned for his son and shocked at having a part of his palace cave in, and he wasn’t in the right state to really consider this woman that would be his spouse. 

She was small. Short in stature, her frame slender but muscular. She might be a Princess –Queen- but she was not the type to sit in palaces or on thrones and let others do things for her. If her musculature and the grease stain on her gown were any indication, she was not afraid of getting her hands dirty and doing things herself. That was something Hec-Tor could admire. Even if she didn’t seem to grasp that there was a time and a place for such things and over the course of this week leading up to their wedding was not the time. 

The thing that bothered him now was that Entrapta seemed to view this marriage as nothing more than a business transaction. Which, it was that in part, but as one of the parties that had to be married, he would have hoped she’d realize that it was much, much more than just clear-cut and cold business. 

“And after the wedding night?” He asked, still speaking to her welding mask and wishing he could read her face to get some measure of her thoughts. 

“I…” She began haltingly. As if unsure of her own views on the matter. Surely she must have thought this through if she was the one to agree to the marriage and wasn’t being forced to by others. “I’m not the most romantic person in the universe.” She confessed. “I’m really bad at reading body language and understanding non-verbal ques. You’ll need to tell me directly when you want to... perform like that.”

This was actually a bit of a relief to Hec-Tor. “And if I never want to perform like that with you?”

“That’s fine too, I guess.” She nodded, as if that was a relief to her as much as it was to him. Then she looked away, her face thrown into profile Hec-Tor could just barely glimpse a fraction of her expression behind the mask. She looked conflicted. “Except- except at some point in the future I will need a daughter. I guess, so long as she comes out of my body her legitimacy as Heir of Dryl would be secure, so she need not come from you. But… I just think- since we’ll already be married, it would just be more convenient if my children came from my spouse.”

Their children would be members of the Imperial Royal Family, and Heirs to the weapons manufacturing titan of Dryl. That was why Brother wanted this marriage so bad. And Dryl required a female to inherit. Brother wanted Hec-Tor to sire a daughter with this Etherian Princess so that he could wed her to Zed, thereby insuring that the armory of Dryl would always be under Imperial control. 

It was actually a rather genius amount of planning on Horde Prime’s part. 

Hec-Tor hated it. 

“Do you, um, do you require any more children?” She asked, hesitant.

“No.” He stated flatly. “Imp is sufficient.”

Entrapta sighed, as if relived. She did not want to have any more children than was absolutely necessary. Then she smiled. “Imp is gonna love the Crypto Castle! That’s where I live, by the way. My castle in Dryl. It’s got so many secret passageways and hideaways. I’m sure he’s gonna have a lot of fun living there!”

The idea of his son hiding –and getting lost- in secret passages did not sound fun to Hec-Tor. He would prefer Imp not spend time lurking and hiding at all. 

“I do not want my son getting lost in an unfamiliar castle.” He informed her. And also, made a mental note to ask his brother why she assumed he and Imp would be living in Dryl instead of the Imperial capital of Horde World. 

“Oh. He won’t get lost.” She promised. “I give trackers to all the residents and staff of the castle so no one gets lost.”

If no one else was using the secret passages, why would everyone need trackers to keep from getting lost? Hec-Tor was concerned. 

“You won’t get lost either.” Entrapta assured him. “I’ll probably give you master privileges on the tracker app so you can not only locate yourself but everyone else in the castle. I spend most of my time in my lab, anyway. So it’ll be nice to have a spouse I can delegate the work of actually ruling and running Dryl to. Actually, that’s another benefit I get out of this deal! Few responsibilities to cut into my experiments!” She smiled at him from across the table. “I think I’m gonna like being married, actually.”

Hec-Tor pulled his tea back to him and sipped it for lack of anything better to do. From the sound of it, he was not going to enjoy being married at all.


	4. Contract Mandated Bonding

The royal gardens of Eternos were very different from the Imperial gardens on Horde World. While the gardens of the Imperial palace were filled with bushes and grasses from all over the universe, carefully tended, tripped and shaped to be aesthetically pleasing, and impermanent and replaced after every bad storm, the gardens of Eternos looked almost wild. Tall trees with thick trunks and dense branches, ground vines climbing out of the beds and up the walls, flowers of every variety growing wherever they pleased as if just allowed to take root wherever the wind blew their seeds. Hec-Tor was not used to something that was supposed to be part of a royal property looking so… unplanned. 

The Prince Imperial sneezed, wondering if he was allergic to something in the gardens and if an epinephrine would react adversely with his medications. 

Next to him, Keldor yawned. Board. His intended was board of his company. Not that Hec-Tor found the other Prince particularly riveting either. They had little in common and little to talk about aside from their pending nuptials and one could not fill an entire afternoon of contract mandated bonding discussing how much you hated said contract forcing you to bond. Keldor looked behind them at their escorts. The robotic diplomat Dylamug, and a Gar warrior named Sy-Klone. They both looked about as board and uninterested as Hec-Tor and Keldor felt. 

Noting just how disinterested their chaperones were, Kedor grabbed Hec-Tor by the hand and pulled him off the grass-grown gravel path. 

“Wha-!?” Hec-Tor was about to demand an explanation for the sudden action, but Keldor placed a blue hand over his mouth. 

“Shh!” He hissed, ebony hair falling in front of one pointed ear. “Follow me.”

Keldor began to climb up a vine-entangled tree with low-hanging branches and dense leaves to hide them from view. But when he saw that Hec-Tor was not immediately following him, he grabbed the other man’s hand and practically had to drag the Horde Prince up. They sat on a one of the boughs, Keldor leaning around the trunk to make sure their escorts were not suspicious. As far as he could tell, they were laughing at the idea that Keldor had dragged Hec-Tor off for a bout of pre-nuptial… affection. 

“What are we doing up here?” Demanded the Prince Imperial. 

“Don’t you wanna get outta here?” Keldor asked. 

Well, actually, yes. Hec-Tor did want to get off of Eternia and away from this arrangement. But Brother really wanted Eternia for some reason and to get it, Hec-Tor had to marry Keldor. So he could not leave. A fact he could not believe he had to remind his fiancé of . “What we want is immaterial in this matter.”

Keldor only rolled his dark eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind his delicately pointed ear. “Wow. They’re got you really well trained.”

“I beg your par-!” Was insulted, but the offense quickly turned to dismay as Keldor pushed him backwards and Hec-Tor found himself suddenly falling. 

The sound he made was not Princely or dignified. 

Eyes wide, talons clawing at –a wall. What he thought was a bush or part of a hedge maze, was in fact a vine-covered wall, and he was falling down the outside of it. Talons cut through leaves or scraped over exposed patches of stone, until he was able to finally gain purchase on a vine strong enough to hold him. Hec-Tor clung to the wall as if it were the only solid thing in existence. 

Keldor slid down next to him, but more controlled. “First time ditching your keepers?”

“What have you done!?” Hec-Tor demanded. 

“I told you. We’re getting out.” His intended scoffed as if this should have been obvious. “Don’t tell me you were actually having fun on our ‘quiet and leisurely stroll through the gardens’. He slid down the vines a fraction of a meter, expecting Hec-Tor to follow him. “C’mon. I’ll show you the real Eternia!”

Hec-Tor looked up at the wall, gauging the distance he’d already fallen. He could climb that easily. Get back inside the castle, go to Horde Prime and made his brother see that this Prince Keldor of Eternia was not a suitable partner for a member of the Imperial family. But after he pulled himself up a little short of a meter, he began to feel woozy, the warning of an on-coming faiting spell, and decided that he would rather be much, much closer to the ground. Hec-Tor followed Keldor’s example and used the vines to slide down the wall. 

Their boots touched ground in a narrow alley behind the castle. It stank of city waste and there were vermin skittering over the stones. Hec-Tor leaned against the wall and breathed in the noxious air, hoping the dizziness would pass without him losing consciousness in the middle of a filthy ally. 

“You having a panic attack or something?” Keldor asked. 

Hec-Tor cast a sideways glare at him. Crimson eyes glowing in the dim ally. 

Keldor did not seem the least bit impressed. Apparently, Hec-Tor was not very intimidating when he looked –and felt- like he was about to pass out. Keldor grabbed his hand again. “C’mon. There’s a bar I like down this way.”

Hec-Tor could not drink alcohol. It reacted badly with his medications. But he also could not pull away when Keldor dragged him down the ally and around a corner. 

They came out on a semi-crowded street full of a diverse variety of Eternian races and alien visitors. It was more people than Hec-Tor had ever been around at one time and he suddenly felt inexplicably anxious. He held tighter to Keldor’s hand and closed the distance between them, almost pressing his whole body against the other man’s side. 

“You afraid of getting lost or something?” He teased.

“I am unused to… this.” All of this. Being in a crowded street. People not automatically making space for him and giving him a wide birth out of respect. Defying protocol, evading their chaperones, and stealing out of castle grounds. All of it. Hec-Tor was unused to all of it. What kinds of things did they teach their Princes on Eternia for Keldor to even know how to do this!? Never mind actually do it. 

The other man only laughed. Keldor seemed to do a lot of laughing at him and Hec-Tor was concerned by the fact that he did not hate it. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

He pulled Hec-Tor into a dimply lit tavern that stank of stale grain, alcohol, and the funk of perspiration from a vide and diverse variety of organisms. Hec-Tor had to cover his nasal cavity with his hand. It was rank and offensive to smell. How anyone could drink anything from this place was a mystery to him.

Keldor dragged them both right up to the bar, laid two silver coins on the counter, and grinned at the bartender when she asked how old they were. “Old enough to be married.”

(The age of consent on Eternia was younger than the legal drinking age.)

The bartender continued to glare at them. So Keldor slowly placed a gold coin on the table along side the silver. The silver coins were placed in the bar’s till, the gold coin disappeared into her pocket, and two tankards of some frothy grain-alcohol replaced them on the counter. “Just don’t make any trouble.”

Keldor gave a mock gasp. “Trouble? Me? Well, I never-!”

The bartender rolled her eyes again. “I know who you are, and I have Man-at-Arms on speed dial.”

Another gold coin was placed on the bar counter. 

“But silly me forgot to charge my com last night.”

Grinning, Keldor pressed one frothing tankard into Hec-Tor’s hands and led him to a table in the middle of the room. 

Hec-Tor sniffed the drink cautiously. “I cannot drink this.”

“Sure you can!” Keldor insisted. “Just put it in your mouth and swallow.”

“I mean, it will make me very, very ill.” Hec-Tor clarified. 

“Yeah…” Agreed the other man. “But you’ll have a lot of fun first!”

Setting his tankard down on the table, Hec-Tor pushed it away from himself. “I would like to go back to the castle now.”

Keldor was already chugging his drink. He had a froth mustache when he lowered the tankard. “Aw, but we only just got here! I haven’t even gotten into a bar fight yet.”

Hec-Tor raised a baled brow at him. Princes were not supposed to slink down narrow allies, or get into bar fights with common drunkards. He opened his mouth to remind Keldor of this fact, and also made a mental note to inform Brother of this little escapade as evidence that the engagement should be called off and the alliance with Eternia sealed some other way. 

But he didn’t get the chance to. 

At that exact moment, a large Qadian came up to their table. A dark scowl on his feline face, arms crossed over his chest with disproval. “You, Gar,” he hissed, “you’re at my table.”

“Never mind.” Keldor smirked at Hec-Tor, “I’m right on schedule.” He turned around to face the cat-like alien –although, to Keldor he wouldn’t be an alien, Qadians were native to Eternia- “I am? I’m so sorry, I had no idea this was your table, Mr. Torg Sisters Wholesale Furniture Warehouse! That is your name, I assume, as it’s the only name written on it.”

The Qadian’s whiskers twitched asymmetrically. “You can’t sit here, Gar.”

“I can’t?” He gasped, as if truly and honestly shocked. He looked down at his chair. “By the Goddess! It must be a miracle. Look! I’m sitting! Here!”

Losing patience quickly, the Qadian grabbed Keldor by one of the belts crossed over his chest. “Listen, you Blue Bastard, we don’t want your kind here!”

Hec-Tor shot to his feet. No one grabbed a Prince like that! At least, in the Empire, no one would dare!

“What kind is that?” Keldor asked, not appearing to be intimidated by the hostile feline. “Gar, young people, or someone who can hold his liquor probably better than you.”

“Let him go.” Hec-Tor commanded, putting all the regal command of his station into the words. For half a second, to his own ears, he sounded just like Brother. A Horde Prime. Commanding, and strong. He stood up. Then immediately felt the same faintness from a few minutes ago when Keldor pushed him over the castle wall. But he tried to ignore it.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Scoffed the Qadian, unimpressed. 

Not many people outside of Horde World actually knew what members of the Imperial Family looked like. They were so many generations removed from the original Horde Prime, and each suffered physical defects that sometimes altered their appearance, that none of them looked like the clones of the Horde military. 

“I am a-“

“This is my fiancé, uh… Hordak!” Keldor cut him off before Hec-Tor could announce that he was a Prince of the Horde Empire and that Keldor was Prince Keldor First Born to the House of Miro. Apparently, that would spoil his fun. “Hordak, sweetie, say ‘hi’ to the nice kitty.”

Hec-Tor frowned.

“Are you making fun of me!” Demanded the Qadian. He did not appreciate being called a ‘kitty’, anymore than Keldor appreciated being called a ‘blue bastard’. 

Keldor only smirked. “I’m usually making fun of everyone.”

With a hiss and a snarl, the Qadian threw Keldor at the table. 

He caught himself on its edge and used it for balance while he ducked a fast punch from the Qadian. 

Hec-Tor, acting more on impulse rather than any conscious strategy, picked up the whole table and threw it at the Qadian. The feline alien had to jump to dodge the projectile furniture. His fur all puffed out, he hissed again. 

But the action brought on another wave of dizziness. The physical exertion just a little too much for him. Hec-Tor’s vison blurred as his body did what it had been threatening to do almost all day. He passed out. 

He didn’t get to see the rest of the fight. He wasn’t sure what happened, exactly. But when he came to again, he was slung over Keldor’s back like a sack, and the other man was carrying him down the same ally they’d first dropped down into from the castle wall. Hec-Tor groaned. 

“You’re awake.” Keldor put him down. He had a swollen lip and a bruise on the side of his face, but nothing was bleeding and all his teeth were still there. “Wasn’t that fun!”

“We got into a fight!” Hec-Tor was not fully recovered yet and getting worked up was not what he needed right now, but this Prince Keldor was… wild. He examined himself for injuries. Apart from the familiar soreness that came from laying on a hard floor, there were none. They must have ignored him once he passed out. 

“Fighting is fun.” 

“Fighting is for clones.” Hec-Tor corrected. He massaged the sides of his head. His vision was still a little blurry. “Why are you even getting into fights anyway? You’re not a warrior. I was told you’re a sorcerer!” 

Keldor only shrugged. “Two things can be true.”

“I should not have helped you.” Hec-Tor shook his head. 

“But I’m glad you did.” Keldor told him. “You’re supposed to be able to depend on your spouse. Married people should help each other.”

…

Contract mandated bonding time with Entrapta was just as much of a whirlwind as his first few months with Keldor, but in a different way. Entrapta did not push him over walls, or drag him to seedy bars in the slums, or get into bar fights with the absolute scum of the planet. Entrapta insisted he take her on a tour of the shieldwall that ran the perimeter of the city. 

She wanted to walk the narrow service shafts the maintenance workers used to keep it in working order. She wanted to see the gear housings that lifted and lowered the shield for a storm. She wanted to examine the turbines that collected the storms’ energy. She wanted to watch the generators in action, powering the city with the raw power of the harsh world they lived on. 

The interior of the shieldwall was almost as dirty and grungy as the outside. Rust on the exposed pipes, painted signs and safety markings sanded down to the base metal they were painted on, discolored wall panels, dust collecting in the corner where the wall met the floor. 

But Entrapta seemed to be having the time of her life. 

Wearing those baggy overalls again, looking like any other maintenance worker, several of the regular staff assumed she was an intern or a new-hire before they saw that she was in the company of an Imperial Prince. Hec-Tor had counted five people so far, who had approached Entrapta to ask her where she was assigned. Was she lost? What was she doing at this part of the wall? etc., before they noted Prince Imperial Hec-Tor Kur trailing behind her, his spine straight, and arms clasped behind his back. A perfect pillar of Imperial discipline and command. Then the stuttering and near incomprehensible apologies would start tumbling out of their trembling mouths. 

Entrapta seemed oblivious to this, however. The moment she was approached by anyone who actually worked there, she would bombard them with questions. How many people per shift did it take to maintain the wall? How many shifts per day? Were they all skilled workers? What was the most common problem that occurred working on the wall? What steps did they take to address these reoccurring problems? 

That actually wasn’t that bad. It was about what Hec-Tor was coming to expect from her. 

Then she stretched out a tendril of her prehensile hair and lifted herself up onto one of the large pistons that lifted the wall and the shieldwall staff all nearly fainted. Entrapta swung from piston to piston, and between gears, examining the moving parts –that were currently not moving- of the shieldwall. It was actually a little refreshing to know that Entrapta was shocking and uncomfortable to other people as well as him. 

Most people, when they visited Horde World and wanted to tour the shieldwall, they wanted to ride hover bikes along the top and see how many laps they could do around the city in a day (the max to date was one and a half). See just how tall it was, how far into the dessert they could see, how small the buildings of the city looked from on top. Or see how many members of their species they could fit standing shoulder-to-shoulder across its width. But all Entrapta wanted to do was measure the cogwheels that could crush and kill her if they suddenly started moving. 

She was nothing if not unique. Hec-Tor could give her that. Brother certainly had a talent for finding the most unusual partners possible for him. 

Hec-Tor yawned, mouth stretching wide, displaying sharp crimson teeth. It felt like they had spent the whole morning here. He checked the chronometer on the wall. They had spent the whole morning here. It was afternoon now and Hec-Tor would need to take his medications. 

“Entrapta.” He called to her. 

“Just a second!” She answered. Swinging from one impossibly large piece of machinery to another. 

“Princess Entrapta.” He tried again, putting stress on her title in an attempt to remind her that she had duties and responsibilities to attend to and could not spend all her time on leisure pursuits and hobbies. 

Swinging on her hair again, she did a seemingly unnecessary mid-air summersault and landed directly in front of him. 

Gosh! She was so short! Standing on her feet, without her hair adding any height to her, Entrapta barely came up to Hec-Tor’s sternum. 

“Did you need something?” She asked.

“It is time we break for lunch.” He informed her without inflection. 

“Oh. I’m not really hungry.” She shrugged with her shoulders and made a dismissive motion with her hair. 

Entrapta struck him as the kind of person that –when they were interested in something- would continue to focus their attention on that thing and ignore meals or not notice that they were even hungry at all. That, however, was not an attitude anyone in his family could afford. Every single Kur –including Imp, the most healthy of all of them- relied on medications and supplements, the vast majority of which had to be taken with food. Hec-Tor could not afford to skip a meal, and since they were required to spend time ‘getting to know each other’ before their wedding, she could not afford to skip a meal either. After they were married, she could do, or not do, whatever she wanted. But, for right now, she had to follow his schedule as strictly as he himself did. 

“But I am.” Hec-Tor informed her. “We will break for lunch then you may return to your study of the shieldwall.” 

“Oh. I’m pretty much done here.” She announced, much to Hec-Tor’s frustration. If she was already done, why did she make it seem like she didn’t want to leave?

Lunch was served on an observation deck atop the wall. 

The servants quickly set up a collapsible picnic table, covered it with a table cloth brought from the palace, and laid out the meal that had been prepared ahead of time. Complete with a covered ceramic cup that contained the battery of pills Hec-Tor had to choke down three times a day. 

Entrapta seemed to ignore the table setting and the meal, however. Her attention was focused on the view. Finally, a normal thing visitors did when they came to Horde World. Admire the view. 

The previous day’s storms had thrown up the sand into many high-peaked dunes. Heat waves could be seen rising off the sides where Horde World’s yellow sun glared down on them, baking the already burnt sienna landscape. Frost could just barely be seen sparking in the dark shadowed side where the suns could not reach. Horde World was a planet of extremes. 

“It’s really amazing anything managed to thrive on Horde World at all.” She exclaimed. “I mean, apart from the dragon-roaches and the super-bacteria.” Her gloves were pressed up against the observation glass that enclosed the deck. “What’s the ambient temperature outside right now?”

“Inside the city, or out in the desert?” Asked Hec-Tor. 

He selected several of the tiny items of food the kitchen staff had prepared for them. It took eight of them to equal the size of a normal bite of food for him. Why did the kitchen staff make them such tiny food? The morsels were so small, in fact, that he barely had to swallow. With something already on its way to his stomach, Hec-Tor tipped his dose of medications in his mouth and washed them down. 

“The city has climate buffers that regulate the temperature, right?” She asked. “That’s how people can walk around without freezing in the shade or getting cooked in the sun. But what’s the rest of the planet like?”

It took him a couple of swallows to completely clear his throat of water and medications. Then another moment to remind his body that it was not choking and did not have to trigger the gag reflex. He took another sip of water just for good measure. “The average daytime temperature in direct sunlight is over 500 degrees Kelvin.” He informed her. “Two-hundred seventy degrees Kelvin in the shade.”

“That’s so wild!” Entrapta did a theatric little twirl, her hair spiraling around her. She flopped down in the empty seat provided for her and popped a morsel of tiny food into her mouth. “Horde World is like one of those planets that doesn’t have any atmospheric layers. Nothing between it and space to buffer the solar radiation or insulate the landscape. But it does have an atmosphere. We’re breathing it right now! And it’s not like the city is under a dome or anything. It’s just dummy harsh outside.”

Reluctant though he was to admit it, Hec-Tor did have to agree that Horde World was unlike any of the other –inhabited- planets he’d been to. 

“The planet’s previous owners did irreparable damage to its environment. So much so that they changed the climate to be completely inhospitable to their breed of life.” He grabbed another handful of tiny food portions and shoved them in his mouth, just to be sure there was sufficient food in his stomach with his medications. “What is Etheria like? I am sure it is… mild, compared to Horde World.”

Tapping her chin with a strand of hair, Entrapta thought. “Well… I wouldn’t call it ‘mild’. It’s certainly more diverse than Horde World. But Etheria has got its own extremes. The Northern Reach is a permanently frozen tundra. I guess you could call it an Ice Cap. Then the Crimson Waste is a lot like Horde World, a vast desert, dry, hot, no surface water, it just doesn’t have your temperature extremes.”

“And Dryl?” 

“We get a lot of weather in Dryl.” She answered distractedly, picking up two tiny morsels and popping them into her mouth one at a time. Then washing them down with a carbonated sweet drink Hec-Tor refused to taste.

“And what does that mean?” He raised one bald brow, confused. 

“Dryl is mostly a temperate zone.” She supplied. “We get all four seasons and all the weather that comes with them. Snow in the winter, rain and storms in the spring, absurd humidity in the summers, thunder and lighting in the autumn, lots, and lots of lighting, I swear, the mountains add extra charge to the atmosphere! –then back to winter snow!” 

“That does sound like… a lot of weather.” He agreed, not knowing what else to say. 

“I spend most of my time in my lab, but I’m told it can be fun.” Entrapta informed him. “Skiing in the winter, rafting in the spring, camping in the summer, festivals in the fall. I’m not much of an outdoors person, but if you are you might like it!”

“I…” Because of his condition, Hec-Tor preferred not to do anything too strenuous if it could be avoided. 

Skiing and rafting sounded absolutely terrible to him. Camping was a word that had different meanings to different people he found. For his family, ‘camping’ was rouging it in a slightly smaller palace or castle with limited servants and fewer amenities. That was not what the word camping meant to the vast majority of other people Hec-Tor met. And fesitvals… Hec-Tor had mixed experiences with festivals. Experiences ranging from ‘we just have to light the brazier, then we can go home’, to ‘I just bought these two pills off some guy, let’s pop ‘em and see what happens’, and everything in between. (Attending festivals with his brother and attending festivals with Keldor were two very different experiences.) The outdoor activities of Dryl did not sound appealing. 

“When I am not working I usually spend my free time servicing or improving upon my armor.” An activity that was also spent indoors. 

Entrapta instantly perked up. Fuchsia eyes focusing on him with an intensity he was unused to. Showing an unfettered interest in him –not his planet’s technology or adaptations, but him- for the first time. “Oh? Did you design your own armor? Are you an engineer? Robotic designer? May I take a look at your armor to see how you’ve integrated the prosthetic tech into your organic body?”

Her interest was almost too intense for him and Hec-Tor found himself physically leaning away from her. “We manage our own… defects.”

She blinked at him, not fully comprehending. “You mean, you came up with that design to manage your condition all on your own? And maintain it all on your own? No one helped you. Even when you were a child? C’mon. You can’t expect me to believe that you don’t take care of Imp, or Horde Prime doesn’t take care of Prince Zed! Everyone needs help sometimes! And married people should help their spouses.”


	5. The Wedding

He was still losing weight. 

Over the last few days, Hec-Tor had lost a little over one kilogram of body mass. Enough weight that his wedding gown had to be taken in. His arms under his armor were thinner and he had to add padding to the inside to keep the exterior plating from rubbing uncomfortably with the extra space. 

The gown was predominantly green, a pale lime green, with accents in white and gray. The colors of the House of Kur. They had to cinch it around the ribs and waist to adjust for the weight loss. The shift in fabric off setting the placement of the thigh-slits on the legs. The whole gown had to be altered. The tailors just barley managing to finish in time for the ceremony. 

Hec-Tor slipped it on, feeling the soft fabric slide against his skin like it was meant to be there. Fitting like a glove over his shoulders and around his mid-section. Like he had been poured into it, rather than it being pulled over him. The slits on the thighs went up higher than Hec-Tor originally specified, showing more skin, and when he moved, the straps of his garters showed. The oversight was so much that it had to be deliberate. No Imperial tailor would make the mistake. The alteration had to be commanded by someone in a position to command. And it hadn’t been Hec-Tor, which meant Brother had ordered it. 

Studying his reflection in the mirror, Hec-Tor had just finished selecting a pair of earrings when Horde Prime walked in. Unannounced and without invitation. 

“Coming to check on me.” Hec-Tor growled at his brother. “Making sure I didn’t climb out a window with a rope made from bedsheets.”

The windows of the Imperial palace did not open. 

“You didn’t run the first time.” Prime reminded him. “You did your duty then, you’ll do it now.”

Hec-Tor gave his reflection one final examination. Dangling earrings matching the decorative plugs in his neck ports, both in gold. Chains of gold strung between more plugs in the ports on his sides. Gown falling over his hips in a sensual drape, the slits provocatively showing his garters when he moved. He turned around to face his brother. “I will serve the Empire.”

“You are a good servant.” Prime nodded. He reached out a hand, lifting Hec-Tor’s chin. Tilting the younger man’s face one way, then the other. Examining the sharp angle of his cheek bones, the shape of his eyes, the set of his brows. The makeup accenting and complementing his best features, and downplaying or outright concealing his less appealing ones. He looked rather attractive by their family’s standards. “You look like Par-Is.” 

Hec-Tor pulled out of his brother’s hand. “Are we allowed to say her name again?”

“No.” Prime deadpanned. Then cleared his throat. Backing up and averting his eyes, almost as if he didn’t want to look at Hec-Tor anymore. “If you’re done preening, I want to get this absurd ceremony over with.”

“You want your weapons.” Hec-Tor asserted. That’s all this was. A business transaction. Prime would give Entrapta all the resources she needed and in return she would furnish his vast space-faring military with weapons. Hec-Tor was just the notary stamp on the contract. “I want to get back to my regular schedule.”

He was sure his desk must be over-full of all the work that’d been piling up while he was forced to divert his time and attentions to this farce. All the items of business that Horde Prime delegated to him. Hec-Tor was sure his brother was not seeing to them himself. And since Hec-Tor did not have the opportunity to deal with them, things just were not getting done. 

“You will adjust your schedule to your new environment.” Horde Prime announced cryptically. “You can still perform your usual duties from your new home.”

“New home?” Hec-Tor echoed. 

Prime’s lip curled. “I have been told that Entrapta of Dryl can be… easily distracted. You will keep her on task and our arms manufacture on schedule.” A pause. “In addition to the responsibilities you already fulfill.”

“You’re banishing me to the other side of the universe!” This was the reason. This was why Entrapta seemed so sure that he and Imp would be living with her in the Crypto Castle. She had already worked it out with Prime ahead of time. Brother just decided to wait until the day of the wedding to tell him. 

“Don’t be so melodramatic, brother.” Prime scoffed. “Banishment implies that you would never be allowed back. I’m simply deploying you as a strategic asset to protect our interests. You will oversee Dryl’s manufacture of arms for the Empire, and while you’re there, you will also sire a daughter with Entrapta. She will inherit the arms manufacture and when your daughter is old enough, you can come home for her wedding to Zed.”

“You’ve got everything all figured out.” Hec-Tor scoffed. 

“I do.” Prime nodded. “And you would do well to perform your role without complaint.”

“Do I have any other options?”

“No. You don’t.” 

Forcing his head high, Hec-Tor tried to step past his brother. “Then I have a wedding to get to.”

But Prime stopped him. One hand grabbing his shoulder, wrinkling the fabric draped over his armor. “You’re forgetting something.”

Hec-Tor turned back to glare at the other man. “What?”

“That.” Prime pointed to the silver band on the third finger of his left hand. Keldor’s ring. The only item of jewelry he was wearing that wasn’t gold. Silver against the gray-blue if his hands. “Take it off.”

Twisting the ring on his finger, Hec-Tor hesitated. “I-“

Prime held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

When he did not immediately comply, Prime grabbed his wrist and pulled the band from his finger. 

Hec-Tor hissed when the metal scraped roughly against his skin, ungently pulling it over the knuckle. But the pain didn’t matter so much. That ring –and Imp- were the last things he had left of Keldor. “Give it back!”

“You are about to get a new ring, brother.” Prime reminded him. “You no longer need this one.”

“Please?” The younger man tried. “I won’t wear it. Just- let me keep it.”

Prime only glared back at him, unmoved. 

“I’ll perform my duties diligently, like I always do.” Hec-Tor tried to bargain. “I’ll make sure Entrapta delivers on her end of the bargain, and I’ll run your Empire for you.” 

Prime pocketed the ring. “Yes, brother, you will.”

…

Most cultures the universe over made vows of marriage and signed contracts of partnership on one version or another of an alter. Usually erected in a place of worship, and overseen by a practitioner of that culture’s faith or mythical dogma. 

The Empire was wide and diverse, and the capital city on Horde World did boast many houses of gods and places of worship. Almost as many as there were races in the universe. 

But the Empire itself had no official religion. The Kur family did not believe in gods or demons, or practice any kind of spirituality or religion. 

The wedding was held in the throne room. 

Horde Prime sat atop his throne on the dais, looking down on a Justice of the Peace and an Imperial Attorney, the two that would be performing the ceremony in place of a priestess or similar religious figurehead. 

Entrapta was dressed in a dark suit in a shade of eggplant purple, a striking contrast to Hec-Tor’s pale lime green. A white cravat tied around her throat, a bright violet gem pinning it in place. The tails of her coat flaring out in a bustle. Her trousers baggy around her legs, a very similar cut to the overalls she seemed to favor –except these were clean. She still wore her welding mask and her work gloves. 

The Attorney held a datapad in her hands, reading the contract to the couple, making sure each one understood the terms that they were agreeing to. Then she pressed her thumb to a sensor on the pad, letting it read her print, signing the contract as legal and official. Then she passed it to the Justice.

Holding the datapad, the Justice gave the couple a moment to speak what passed for vows in Imperial weddings. The promises the couple would make to each other that were not influenced by the contract. 

Entrapta went first. “I-“ Lowering her welding mask over her face, she hesitated. “I- I promise to be a good friend, as best I can. To try and understand you when I am confused, and learn what I don’t know, and… and to try and be the best partner I can be.”

As she said, Entrapta was not the most romantic person in the world. That was probably the most meaningful and emotionally true vow she could make.

Hec-Tor drew in a breath and offered the same vows he gave to Keldor. The words of marriage he’d been trained in since his boyhood. “I vow to shield your back and keep your council. And I will ask no service of you that will bring you dishonor.” 

Catra stepped forward and passed Entrapta the ring meant for him. A gold band to match the rest of his gold jewelry. Plain and unadorned. A simple and practical band to be worn daily. She took it from Catra with her hair, not taking a single step closer to Hec-Tor or attempting to close the distance between them. She used the prehensile strands of her hair to slide the ring onto his finger. 

A member of the Imperial wedding party, some loyal noble Prime had picked for the occatin, passed Hec-Tor the ring he was meant to give Entrapta. Also gold, to match the one she gave him. But of a slimmer design. A thinner band that wouldn’t be quite so bulky on her smaller hands. He did not get the chance to putit on her finger for her, however. Entrapta plucked it from his hands with her hair and brought it back to herself, slithering the ring under her glove where she presumably put it on the correct finger herself. 

The Justice nodded and held out the datapad for each of them to sign in turn. Hec-Tor pressed his thumb to the sensor, letting it read his print and put his name on it. There was another pause for Entrapta. She had to remove one of her gloves, doing it slowly, one finger at a time. The removed her thumb from the pad the moment the sensor registered her print and added her name, slipping the glove back on her hand as if she were more afraid of her bare hand being exposed than she was of the marriage. 

The Justice adder her own thumbprint next to where the Attorney had placed hers. Sealing it and making it official. 

“You are married.” She announced. “You may kiss.”

Hec-Tor and Entrapta turned to each other. There was enough space between them than if their cultures believed in a ‘holy spirit’ it could fit comfortably between them. 

“I- I guess we should…” Entrapta muttered. 

“You will have to lift your mask.” Hec-Tor informed her.

She raised a tendril of hair and slid the welding mask up slowly. Revealing a face that was beet-red with a blush. Embarrassment and nerves. She chewed her bottom lip. 

Hec-Tor took a step closer to her, to close the distance. 

Entrapta looked away, but she did not lower the mask back down. She played with her hands. “I’m not very good at- -at kissing.”

Hec-Tor took a second step. They were close enough now. “I have had quite a bit of practice.”

She did not lift herself up on her hair to accommodate for their height difference. 

So, Hec-Tor bent down. And placed a chase kiss to Entrapta’s cheek. 

…

The reception was held out in the gardens. The bushes washed clean of dust from the storms, or just outright replaced if they were sandblasted to severely to be worth saving. The rows and beds were strung with lights. Green for the Empire, violet for Dryl. Music played in the central hub where all the garden paths conversed and the artificial pond had been drained and covered so that a dancefloor could be laid down in its place. 

Hec-Tor and Entrapta were required to dance one dance together. The first dance. An entire song in which they were the only couple on the floor. Finally, when that song ended and a new one began, other couples joined them and they were able to slip off the dancefloor mostly unnoticed. 

For a moment, the two just stood there. Off to the side. Unsure if they should remain together as a newly wed couple or separate and give themselves some time to mentally adjust to their new circumstance. At the very least, they would need to mentally adjust before… the night. 

Then a screech distracted both of them and Imp came flying at Hec-Tor. Almost crashing into the man’s face. Imp clawed at the fabric of his father’s gown, climbing over his shoulder to cling koala-style to his back. 

“Imp! What is-?” His question was answered before he even finished asking it. 

Two of the maid staff the exclusively cared for the Imperial children, Imp and Zed, came running up. “Apologized, Your Highness, but he got away from us.”

Crawling up onto his father’s shoulder, Imp hissed at the two maids and made a rude gesture with his hands, telling them exactly where they could go. Seriously, where did he learn such unbecoming Signs? Hec-Tor decided that was a question for later and instead focused his attention on the maids. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We were trying to fix the young Prince’s appearance when he scratched at us and flew away.” They explained. 

Hec-Tor turned his head, trying to glare at his child. 

Imp fluttered around to be in front of his father as he explained, hands waving rabidly with his explanations that he didn’t like wearing makeup. It made his face feel funny. It was stupid. He was a Prince, he should have to get dressed-up and painted like a doll. And then some less than polite recommendations of where his keepers could shove all their cosmetic products. Yup. Imp was definitely, definitely Keldor’s child. 

Hec-Tor sighed, examining his son. Imp had removed the shrug from his gown, and ripped at the hem to make it shorter. His shoulders were bare and his knees were exposed. Half the makeup was already rubbed off his face and what little was still on him was smeared so badly that he looked like an abstract painting. 

Entrapta, whom stood next to Hec-Tor for this explanation and did not yet understand a single motion of Sign untied the cravat from her neck. “Oh, well we can fix Imp’s appearance right now!” She announced. Then, using her hair, wiped the remaining makeup off of him, leaving his face it’s natural uniform blue complexion. The same shade of blue as Keldor’s skin. “There. That’s better.”

She then tied the –now filthy- cravat back around her neck as if it didn’t even matter. 

Imp chirped with appreciation. He liked this crazy off-worlder Dad had married. She was exactly his kind of crazy. Imp fluttered over to perch in her hair, raising his hands to Sign at his father. ‘Mine.’

Well, at least someone was happy about this marriage.

“That means he likes me, right?” Entrapta asked, unsure. As if she’s never met another sentient being before in her life and didn’t understand even the most obvious of gestures. 

Hec-Tor massaged his forehead, smudging his own makeup just a little bit. He was beginning to feel an oncoming headache and needed to sit down. 

“I shall deal with my son.” He dismissed the maids. 

Entrapta lifted her mask, trying to tilt her head without dislodging Imp from his perch. “I guess this means you like me, huh.” She said. “You’re not afraid I’m trying to replace your other parent or anything?”

She asked this more as if it were something she read was a common occurrence and not something she was actually afraid of for herself. 

Imp squawked a negative. 

“Imp has no memories of Keldor.” Hec-Tor informed her. “He vanished before Imp’s gestation in the vitrine was complete.” 

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. 

A server passed by with a tray of adorably decorated mini-cupcakes. Entrapta stopped them and selected three for herself. Then grabbed a fourth for Imp. She lifted it up on a tendril of hair for him. Then paused, suddenly unsure. She looked up at Hec-Tor. 

“Oh, is he allowed to have refined flour and sugar?” 

Hec-Tor glared at the cupcake. “I will not be available to put him to bed tonight with the sugar makes him… difficult.” He informed her. 

The reminder making them both feel awkward. They had a previous commitment later tonight that would prevent either of them from attending to any other responsibilities. Hec-Tor could not tuck his son in for the night and Entrapta could not… do whatever Entrapta usually did in the evenings before bed. They had to consummate their marriage. Consummate it in a ceremony that would have to be witnessed by the same Attorney and Justice that performed their wedding. 

They avoided eye-contact. Entrapta lowered the cupcake, placing it and the three she selected for herself on the rim of a nearby herb bed. She suddenly lost her appetite. Hec-Tor clasped his hands behind his back, his posture going military stiff, trying to take comfort in familiar motions. 

Hec-Tor nodded to the servant still holding the tray of cakes. “Some fresh fruit for my son instead.” He commanded. “Tartpears.”

The servant paused, suddenly looked uncomfortable. They stuttered when they had to inform the Prince, “There- there are no tartpears, Your Highness.”

“What?” Hec-Tor raised a baled brow at them. 

“Be-because of the blight in Antares.” They explained. “They had to burn out all the crops to kill the disease. Even the seemingly healthy ones. We won’t get tartpear in the capital for at least another season.”

They waited for the Prince’s reaction with a tense silence, his bottom lip quivering. 

Hec-Tor rubbed his forehead again. This time the headache was not threatening. It was beginning. The blight in Antares was one of the issues to pass his desk literally the day before this farce began. One of the issues he could have dealt with in the timely manner. One that did not involve burning down and destroying an entire season’s worth of the Empire’s food. 

“Something native then.” He growled at the servant. “Cactus-grape.”

They all but ran away to fulfill the Prince’s request and get young Prince Imp some fresh fruit to eat in place of the cupcakes that contained refined flower and sugars. 

A silence descended over them again. 

“It’s just one night.” Entrapta said, repeating the same thing she said at breakfast when they had their first formal introductions. 

“Brother will probably want to witness.” Hec-Tor informed her. “He watched me the first time.”

“’Me’? Not ‘us’?” She asked. Sex usually involved two people not just the one. 

Hec-Tor closed his eyes, remembering how Brother leered down at him. He was looking at him, only him, not Keldor. Hec-Tor was sure of it. He grit his teeth, steeling himself against the memory and the knowledge that he was going to go through a repeat of the episode in the very near and foreseeable future. “As you said, it is only one night.”


	6. The Wedding Night(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, this fic's rating has been changed to E - Explicit.

He was trembling so bad, Hec-Tor barely noticed when the robe was slipped from his shoulders. Blue hands sliding over his skin, exploring as much as caressing. Tracing the places where his skin changed color. From white to frosty-gray under his ears, as it was supposed to be. From frosty-gray back to white on his arms, a symptom of his defects. Keldor seemed more curious than aroused as he examined his new husband’s body. 

“You can touch me too, ya know.” He said.

Hec-Tor chanced a nervous glance at their observers. An Imperial Attorney, the Eternian Priestess of the Goddess that had married them, and Horde Prime. The Attorney looked board, impatient almost, as if she just wanted to get this over with and catch up on some paperwork back at the office. The Priestess looked politely embarrassed to be there, beilager was an Imperial custom, not an Eternian one. Only Brother seemed to be watching intently. With actual interest. It was his Brother’s attention that made Hec-Tor the most uncomfortable. 

Keldor’s palms slid down his arms, taking the other man’s hands in his. “Let’s lay down.”

With stinting, almost robotic motions, Hec-Tor crawled onto the bed after Keldor. He reclined against the pillows. Then, almost immediately, sat back up again. “We need-“

Keldor was already unscrewing the cap of a bottle of lubricant. 

“That.” Hec-Tor flopped back down. “We will need that.”

Leaning over the other man, Keldor placed the open bottle on the bedside table. “We also need to relax.”

They had both been avoiding looking down the other’s body. But neither of them needed to actually see the other to know that they were not particularly aroused. Very little was arousing about this situation. 

Keldor kissed Hec-Tor’s lips. At first, chastely and hesitantly, unsure of the other. As they had kissed during the ceremony. A closed mouthed kiss that was non-invasive and did not demand for more. When Hec-Tor did not kiss back he tried again. Less innocently this time. Lips parted, mouth open slightly. Not demanding, just inviting. Hec-Tor still did not kiss back, so Keldor changed tactics. Began trailing kisses along his jawline, down his throat, pausing at the ports on the sides of neck, skipping over that area entirely and moving lower, to his collarbone and chest. 

It did feel kinda nice and Hec-Tor wanted to enjoy it. But he kept looking to the side of them. 

At their observers. 

The Priestess and the Attorney he didn’t mind so much. Yeah, they were watching. But they both looked so disinterested. Like they didn’t even care if Hec-Tor and Keldor did anything more than cuddle for fifteen minutes. As long as the two went to bed together, they would sign off that ‘yeah, sure the marriage was consummated, who says it wasn’t’. 

But Brother… Brother was not disinterested. Brother was staring at Hec-Tor with an intensity that made him uneasy. Studying him, but more than just studying him. Appreciating the view. Hec-Tor had never seen Brother look at Par-Is like that. 

Blue hands cradled his face and gently turned his head away from their observers. Keldor forced Hec-Tor to look at him. His hands blocking the other man’s peripheral vision, so that Hec-Tor could see only him. “Close your eyes.” He commanded, voice soft and gentle, and oddly controlled. “Pretend they’re not there. There’s no one here but us...”

Hec-Tor did close his eyes. 

Keldor tried kissing him again. This time Hec-Tor did kiss back, just as hesitantly. Lips parted, but nothing more. No mouths opening or tongues exploring. Just lips against lips. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” Keldor whispered when their lips parted. He began training kissed down Hec-Tor’s body again. Collar bone and chest. Traveling lower this time. Pectorals and sternum. Ribs and abdominal muscles. The bones of his hips that stuck out slightly when he was laying down, and…

Hec-Tor gasped when he felt Keldor’s tongue flick out experimentally. Tasting and tickling his tip. He sat up, but Keldor pushed him back down. 

“Just relax and enjoy, Your Imperial Highness.” He placed stress on ‘imperial’ and Hec-Tor wondered if Keldor was making fun of him. He did say that he was usually making fun of everyone. 

Somehow, the idea didn’t upset Hec-Tor. In fact, it almost added a little levity to the situation. Making fun was –literally- making. Fun. Sex was supposed to be fun. Not so serious and… grim. With Keldor the sex could be fun. For the first time since saying their wedding vows, Hec-Tor actually felt the stirrings of arousal. 

“That’s better…” Keldor’s hand closed around his organ, stroking gently. Then paused. His hand stilling as it felt the texture change. “Ah. I had heard…”

“Heard what?” Hec-Tor sat up, opening his eyes. 

Keldor was bent down over him, examining his organ. Running the tip of one finger over the spines that covered the shaft. Overall, they were not all that different in terms of shape, length or size. A thick shaft, with veins bulging, the tip nubbed and blunt. The significant difference between them –apart from their colors, obviously- was that Keldor’s was cloaked in a foreskin, while Hec-Tor’s was covered in many tiny barbs that protruded when aroused. 

Keldor gave the shaft a few more experimental strokes. Rubbing one way, then the other. Gauging how the spines pricked and pulled against his skin. He brushed a lock of hair behind his pointed ear and gave an almost self-deprecating smile. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not quite ready to have something like this inside me.”

It was phrased as a statement, but Keldor pitched it as a question. 

Hec-Tor glanced to the side, looking to his Brother for approval. 

Prime’s lip curled in an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. 

Keldor turned his head back to face him. “They’re not here.” He reminded the Hec-Tor. “It’s just you and me…”

Placing another kiss to Hec-Tor’s lips, Keldor reached for the open bottle of lubricant. He squeezed some out onto his hand, covering his fingers. 

Hec-Tor could not help the soft gasp when he felt the wet fingers slide between his thighs. 

“Lift up a bit for me.” Keldor asked. 

“Should I not turn over?” Hec-Tor was utterly humiliated by how lost and ignorant he sounded. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever had sex before. It was just his first time with an audience. For some reason, being observed made him question and second guess everything. 

“I want to see your face.” Keldor informed him. 

Eyes pinching shut with embarrassment, Hec-Tor drew his knees up and lifted up off the mattress enough for Keldor to slide his hand under him. Spreading the lube around his entrance, making the area slick with it. 

“You need to relax.” Keldor whispered to his abdomen, breath warm against his skin. “Otherwise we could use all the lube in the Empire and it’d still be uncomfortable.”

Taking a deep breath and forcing out again as a sigh, Hec-Tor tried to relax. To not think about their observers or the strange way Brother was leering at him. Keep his eyes closed and just focus on the feel of Keldor’s hands on him. Of the coolness of the lubricant and the warmth of Keldor’s body. 

Keldor squeezed more lube into his hand. “That’s better.” 

This time, he didn’t just tease the outside, he slid a finger in. Moving slowly, watching Hec-Tor’s face for any indication of discomfort. Slipping the finger in to the knuckle, then back out again. Repeat the motion. In to the knuckle, then back out again. On the third time Keldor pressed in past his knuckle and Hec-Tor gasped at the sensation of feeling stretched, but it wasn’t an unpleasant gasp. Keldor pulled the finger all the way out again, added more lube, then began again with two fingers. 

He kept his motions slow and measured. Each time he added a finger, only going up to –but not past- the knuckle until he was sure Hec-Tor had adjusted and was ready for more, then slipping all the way in. When he could slide three fingers all the way in and out without any resistance, Keldor pulled his hand away reached for yet more lube. 

Slathering himself with it this time. Polishing his tip and shaft, making it glisten wetly in the dim light. 

Hands under Hec-Tor’s bottom, Keldor lifted and positioned him over his organ. Thrusting up slowly, just as slowly as he went with his fingers, he inserted himself into Hec-Tor. A whimper escaped him as he felt Keldor’s length stretch his insides. A dick was a lot bigger than just a few fingers. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Keldor asked. 

Hec-Tor pressed his hips down, forcing his partner’s length deeper. “No.” He gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Next to the bed they heard Prime’s breath hitch. 

Hec-Tor opened his eyes to look over at his Brother. 

But Keldor turned his head back. “Don’t focus on them. Focus on me.” He gave a gentle thrust. “Focus on what I’m doing to you.”

Hec-Tor groaned at the motion. “I like what you’re doing to me…”

He leaned up, practically sitting in Keldor’s lap. Grinding his hips on the other’s pelvis. Wrapping his arms around Keldor’s neck for balance, Hec-Tor finally initiated a kiss. Eyes closed, leaning to one side to avoid getting poked by the Gar’s nose, mouth open. Hec-Tor pressed their lips together. 

Keldor’s tongue darted out, mindful of Hec-Tor’s sharp teeth. Testing just how open he was and if he was also mindful of his razor fangs. Hec-Tor’s tongue slithered to meet his, caressing and tasting. 

The air was filled with the sounds of wet smacking. Of lips on lips, and skin as it slid across wet skin. Of both men moving together. Groaning and sighing.

Hec-Tor grinding in Keldor’s lap. 

Keldor quickening his pace. 

Their lips parted, both of them panting for breath. A string of saliva dripped from between their open mouths. 

Hec-Tor felt more than saw his vision swim and knew he was in danger of passing out, but he didn’t care. Keldor felt so good inside him. Thick and hard, and moving in just the right way. Hitting that spot inside him just right. Just how he needed to feel good. To want more. For the first time since they started, he was actually able to forget the others were in the room. 

“Harder.” He begged. 

Obligingly, Keldor pushed Hec-Tor back against the pillows, pinning him down. He lifted one frost-gray and white leg over his shoulder, offering a better angle for what Hec-Tor wanted. Keldor pounded into him. Bracing his weight on his fists. Making the bed shake with their motions. 

Hec-Tor moaned loudly. That. That was it. That was what he wanted. Moving fast and hitting deep. Hitting that one spot right behind his prostate. Making his breath catch and his vision swim. Hec-Tor was close to passing out from the physical strain. But he was also close to cumming and that seemed so much more important at the moment. 

“Keldor…” He gasped, trying to ask his partner to hammer at him just a little harder. He was so close and he wanted to cum before he lost consciousness. 

Keldor wrapped a hand around Hec-Tor’s stiff cock. Stroking down, only in one direction. Petting the barbs in a direction that smoothed them against his palm. 

“Stroke- ngh –stroke it both ways.” Hec-Tor pleaded. It was a race between his defects and his libido, to faint first or to cum first and he really, really wanted to cum. 

“It’s okay to pet in the wrong direction?” Keldor asked, honestly curious. This was his first time touching a barbed penis, after all. 

“There- -is no wrong direction.” Hec-Tor panted. “Just- Fuck! Keldor, I’m so close!”

Keldor obliged. The wrong direction of the spines scraping his palm, irritating the skin into a darker –more indigo- blue. 

Hec-Tor moaned with appreciation. The attention to his cock and the motions inside him finally giving him the extra push he needed. Hec-Tor fell over the edge as his orgasm ripped through his body. Cumming ropes of thick cum over Keldor’s hand and his own belly. 

Breathing hard, Hec-Tor finally passed out. 

…

Entrapta seemed to look at everything with interest. 

Moving on her hair, raising herself up to examine the hangings around the large bed –all pulled back and out of the way, of course, so that they did not block the view of the bed. She surfed around the bed on a wave of hair, picking up bottle of lubricant, unscrewing it, and sniffing at it. She lifted a pillow, using tendrils of hair to pull it out of the case and test its fluffiness, examined the case for thread count and softness of fabric. 

“This is very nice.” She said, not speaking to anyone in particular. Just informing the room. 

Hec-Tor stood by the bed, wearing a house robe and nothing more. Behind him were the Imperial Attorney and Justice of the Peace that had married them, and Horde Prime –all of them still clothed in what they wore to the ceremony. 

Using her hair to vault over the tall bedposts, Entrapta hung herself upside down in front of Hec-Tor, the positon threatening to lift the hem of her own robe enough to expose her lower half (not that they weren’t all about to see it anyway). “Is this your room? It’s much nicer than the one they gave me when I first arrived.”

This was not the Prince’s actual bedroom. “This is… the bridal suit.”

“Ah.” Entrpata finally lowered herself down all the way. Placing her feet on the floor next to him. Twiddling her hair as well as her hands. This was the bridal suit. The was a room that existed for the expressed purpose of wedding nights, and witnessing the wedding night. She lowered her mask over her face, feeling self-conscious. She had changed out of her wedding clothes and was in a house robe same as him, but she still kept her mask and her gloves. “I guess we should get started.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. 

There was a pregnant pause in which they both started at each other. 

It was impossible to read her expression behind her mask. 

“Are we supposed to talk first?” She asked. “Or does one of us just say ‘go’ and we just go at it?”

Hec-Tor had been through this before but, somehow, this seemed so much more awkward. “Are you even the least bit… ready?”

“Not at all.” And it sounded like she was smiling behind her mask. “But I think that’s what the lubricant is for. And the sooner we start this, the sooner it’s over!”

“Well, I…” he glanced at his Brother; not all their observers, just Horde Prime, “…need a few more moments…”

“That makes sense.” She nodded. “If I’m not interested I can just lay there and whatever. But if you’re not interested then this doesn’t happen at all.” Hooking her hair under the collar of her robe, she slid it off herself. Sitting next to him now, naked apart from her gloves and her mask. Hec-Tor still couldn’t read her expression when she said, “So, what do you need me to do?”

Hec-Tor just gaped at her, crimson eyes wide, ears down, a bright blush coloring his usually pale complexion. 

His eyes trailed down her body. From the mask that covered her face, to her collarbones. The swell of her breast, round and perky, with dusky nipples. How she was sitting caused rolls on her abdomen. She was not a warrior with chiseled abs, but she was not overweight either. She was average for a scientist. Lower still, Hec Tor took note of a triangle of lilac hair, this same color as her head, but thick and curly, not trimmed or shaped at all, just allowed to grow wild. He forced his eyes back up to the mask that covered her face. 

Before, it was Keldor that took charge of their wedding night. Guiding him when he felt too self-conscious and nervous to guide himself. 

Entrapta certainly didn’t seem self-conscious. She was sitting naked and bare for all to see. The only part of her that was covered was her face and her hands. But, she also seemed unwilling to take charge and initiate anything. Which meant Hec-Tor had to. 

“May I… touch you?” He asked, unsure himself. 

“You have to, don’t you?” She asked by way of answer. “We can’t have sex without touching.”

Gulping loudly, swallowing a lump of nerves that formed in his throat, Hec-Tor reached a hand out to her. Changed his mind. And lowered it to take her hand instead. 

She looked down at her gloved hand in his. Then back up at him. 

“I am… unused to being the dominant party.” He confessed, feeling oddly ashamed. He’d never felt ashamed of being submissive in the bedroom before. Perhaps because he’d never said it out loud and Brother was standing right there and could hear him. Brother would know that, while he was a Prince of the Horde Empire and a son of the Kur Dynasty, he had also been Keldor’s bitch. 

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so!” She grabbed him with her hair, pulling him the rest of the way onto the bed, and pinned him to the mattress. “If I do something you don’t like, just say ‘gingersnap’ and I’ll stop. Okay?”

She loomed over him on tendrils of her prehensile hair, a tiny and compact little body supported by multiple legs. Like some absurdly erotic spider. The idea was actually comical and Hec-Tor might have laughed if he wasn’t also equally intimidated by her. 

Strands of hair slithered over his waist to tug at the sash of his robe, while still more hair pulled the garment open, exposing him for her to see. 

“Facinating.” He heard her mutter behind her mask as she hovered closer to him, examining the discoloration caused by his defects. Mask so close to his arm the cool metal was almost touching his skin. “The spread pattern looks remarkably like veins. More like a toxin in the bloodstream than a skin disorder. Has it always been like this?”

“I-“

“You’re so thin too!” She continued, and Hec-Tor realized that one of her strands of hair was holding a recorder. She wasn’t asking him that question, she was taking notes. Notes on him and his condition. “With your armor on you looked so, well, bulky. I thought you’d be buff under it. But you’re skinnier than me!”

A snort of amusement off to the side distracted them and they both looked to see Horde Prime trying to cover his mouth with a hand. 

The glowing eyes of Entrapta’s mask glared at him. “Excuse me, we’re trying to have sex here. Do you mind.”

Hec-Tor gave his Brother a pleadingly apologetic look. Asking for forgiveness on behalf of his wife in case she offended him. No one had ever dared speak to Brother that way before. Well, Par-Is did, but that was different. Par-Is was his wife. Entrapta was Hec-Tor’s wife. 

Horde Prime only glared at her in disapproval. He might like the weapons and power she was going to bring to his Empire, but he did not like her. 

He turned his attention to Hec-Tor instead, eyes trailing his brother’s narrow body. Slender limbs and lithe frame. Skin flushing an attractive shade under his brother’s scrutiny. Horde Prime’s frown of disapproval at the way Entrapta spoke to him turned up into a smirk of appreciation. Discolorations not withstanding, his little brother had an appealing body. 

Uncomfortable under his Brother’s scrutiny, Hec-Tor turned his attention back to Entrapta. She said they were ‘trying to have sex’, but she was still suspending herself a good twelve centimeters above him. Hard to have sex when their bodies weren’t even touching. 

She shifted the position of her hair, moving one of the tendrils holding her up to rest just beside his head, blocking his view of their observers. She leaned low over him again, continuing her examination of his body. 

Lower than his shoulders now. Studying his chest, the discoloration that seemed to fan out from his sternum, just below where his heart would be. A patch of white with vain-like strands extending outwards. A thin tendril of hair slithered away from the main body to prod at the discolored area. Then at the healthy, natural colored skin. There was no difference in texture or firmness, only color. Not unlike vitiligo in other species. 

Her mask turned, Entrapta moving her attention to the ports on his sides. That same probing tendril of hair circling one of them. Feeling the smoothness of the surgical-grade steel, pinching the lip to gauge its thickness. But when she slipped her hair inside the port, Hec-Tor let out a strangled gasp. 

“Don’t-! Uh, gingersnap!”

Entrapta froze. Stopping immediately. Slowly, and cautiously, so as not to cause accidental harm, Entrapta withdrew her hair from the port. 

“Please do not… penetrate my ports.” He asked.

Her mask bent down closer to his side. Getting a closer look. “Why don’t you keep plugs in them all the time? I mean, when they’re not hooked into your armor.”

“Sometimes they need to breath.” He gasped out the explanation.

“Oh, like a wound that needs to dry?” She asked. 

Hec-Tor made an uncomfortable groaning noise. He turned his head to the side to look to brother for a cue as to how much of their family’s defects and adaptations he should share with his new wife. But his view of their observers was blocked by Entrapta’s hair. He couldn’t see them. There might as well be no one there but the two of them. He let out a sigh. “I do not wish to discuss my adaptations. …There is something else we are supposed to be doing.”

“Right. Each other.” He couldn’t read her expression through that mask. 

She continued drifting down his body, coming to pause again at his organ. 

Tendrils of hair slid between his thighs, gently requesting he spread just a little bit. To offer Entrapta a better view. 

Face flushed and eyes pinched shut with humiliation, Hec-Tor complied, easing his legs apart just a bit more. 

Hair slid around his balls. Cupping them in the thin lilac strands, lifting them to test their weight, seeing how the organ inside shifted in the sack as she moved them. 

Hec-Tor groaned slightly at the sensation of having his balls fondled. It wasn’t the same as hands or a tongue, or a mouth. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Entrapta went slow and was gentle. And it had been so long since someone besides himself touched him down there. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he enjoyed it. 

“There we go…” Entrapta cooed, watching him grow aroused for the first time since they started. All it took was blocking his Brother from his line of sight, and fondling his balls a bit. Perhaps what ‘everyone said’ was correct, all males liked having their balls stroked. The data –limited though it was- did seem to support. 

Entrapta moved her hair to his shaft. Examining the base at first. How the skin seemed tight as it rose up above his balls. Veins bulging out. Pushing the spines to the surface as it grew erect. Entrapta wrapped her hair around it and gave the shaft an experimental stroke. Up and then back down again. 

Hec-Tor moaned with the action. A true moan of actual pleasure. That felt good. 

The barbs held onto strands of Entrapta’s hair when she tried to unwrap it, and each one had to be disentangled from his organ individually. 

“Fascinating.” She said again, whispering to his organ in a voice that was equal parts interest and excitement. She liked his dick. 

When all her hair was removed, she wrapped her glove around it instead. Touching him with her actual hand for the first time since they began. Stroking it more rigorously. Going down, all the way to his base, then back up again. A slight twist to the up-stroke. His spines did not catch on the protective outer layer of her glove and the sensation of the material sliding against him felt amazing! 

This time, when Hec-Tor moaned, it was loud. He clapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, mindful of the fact that they were still being observed, even if he couldn’t see them. 

“Don’t censor yourself.” Entrapta ordered. “Otherwise this will take longer.” 

And they both wanted this to be over. 

She quickened her stokes until he relaxed again. “I think you’re ready.”

“Are you ready?” He asked, trying to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows to get a look at her. Admittedly, it was a lot more difficult to tell if she was aroused or not simply by looking at her. But she didn’t seem all that aroused. 

A tendril of hair lifted the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table and carried it to her. “I don’t need to be ready like you do. I just need to be wet.”

He watched her apply the lube to herself, slicking the cleft between her thighs. The lilac curls of her pubic hair were matted with it when she lowered herself down onto him. Sliding herself onto his erection with slow, halting motion. Slotting them together.

She was tight inside. So, very, very tight. Almost too tight and Hec-Tor had to wonder if she was a virgin. But, no, she couldn’t be. She was too knowledgeable of what she was doing. Too confident in her own actions and her own part in this. Too assertive of what they were doing. Entrapta could not have been a virgin. She just wasn’t that into it. 

Then she started moving. Lifting herself up, then lowering herself back down. Up… and down… She winced when his spines scraped against her insides. Too tight to offer the barbs any range of motion. They pricked against her walls with every up and down motion.

A soft keening whimper issued from under her mask. 

Hec-Tor sat up. Wrapping one arm around her back to support her, while the other lifted the welding mask. 

Her eyes were pinched shut from the discomfort, and her face was red. She was biting her lower lip, and there were tears in her eyes. 

“You are not enjoying this.” He tried to sooth. 

“It’s just one night.” She muttered through her teeth. “I don’t have to enjoy it. I just have to get it done.”

Something about that attitude bothered him. And bothered him a lot. It reminded Hec-Tor of Par-Is and the attitude Brother took with her. ‘She doesn’t have to enjoy it. She just has to produce an heir.’ He watched Par-Is waste away, unhappy in her marriage. It was never a problem with Keldor. Keldor would find enjoyment in anything. But he didn’t know about Entrapta. She was much more difficult to understand. Hec-Tor did not want to be a source of suffering for her. 

He tried stroking her hair. Unsure if it would be the sensual action it was for most other species, or if it was equivalent to just holding her hand. She did seem to use her hair much more than her hands. 

“I want you to enjoy this.” He told her. 

“I-“ Her face was so red. Not just from discomfort, but now also from embarrassment and nerves. “I’ve never been good at sex.” She confessed. 

“But I am good at it.” He promised her, not sure if he was writing a check his dick couldn’t cash. It had been a very long time since he had been with a female and they were more complicated, more difficult to please. 

Hands moving down to under her bottom, he gently –very gently- lifted her off his lap. “Relax your hair.” He said. “Let yourself lay down.”

Entrapta hesitated. Not moving. Her hair keeping her up. Preventing him from laying her down on the bed. 

“I am not good at being the dominant party.” He repeated. “But I am very good at pleasing my partner.”

With a nervous nod, Entrapta lowered her mask back over her face. Then lowered the spidery legs of hair around them. She sat on the bed for a moment, unmoving. Then, with a deep breath, laid down on the empty house robe Hec-Tor had just vacated. 

He lowered himself between her legs. Noting just how wet everything was. She really did use a lot of lube. They should have been sliding together like silk with as much lube s she used. But, as Keldor said, all the lube in the universe would make the act any less comfortable if the person wasn’t ready. Entrapta needed to loosen up. 

Parting the thick lilac hair, Hec-Tor’s tongue darted out to lick at her slit. 

He tasted only the silicone lubricant. Nothing of Entrapta herself. 

He should have filed his talons before this. But Hec-Tor was rarely ever the one that had to loosen up his partner first. He was usually the one that got loosened. 

Using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped some of the lube out of the way. He tried licking again. This time he did taste her, and she was not particularly wet under the lubricant. Hec-Tor pressed his tongue deeper, wiggling between the folds. Searching for that sensitive bud of nerves that always made his female partners feel pleasure. 

Entrapta sighed at the feeling of his tongue sliding between her folds. Now it was her turn to finally relax for the first time since this began. She always felt unsure and uneasy during sex. It was multiplied a hundred fold with an audience. At least Hec-Tor understood that she didn’t to be relaxed just as much as he did and was taking his time with her. 

Tongue sliding between folds, searching, he finally felt some of her own juices start to flow. Not a lot. Not enough to allow him to slide his barbed length inside her. But enough to indicate that she was at least somewhat interested. 

Finally, he found the delicate nub he was looking for. Hiding under a thin hood of flesh, just barely poking out after his attentions. 

Hec-Tor rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb. 

Entrapta moaned at the sensation. Enjoying the feeling. And her wetness increased. 

Making smooth, even, circling motions over the nerve, Hec-Tor returned his mouth to her slit. Most of the nerves that brought a female pleasure were on the outside. A partner need not penetrate them at all. He wanted to make sure he hit every nerve he could fine and give her as much pleasure as was possible before he finished inside her. 

She gasped at every new sensation and moaned at the really, really good ones. Hec-Tor used her sounds as a guide. Repeating the motions that elicited the most enthusiastic moans and dropping the least reactive ones from the pattern. 

A pattern he repeated until Entrapta was a squirming and moaning mess.

Now, the fluid dripping between her thighs wasn’t artificial lubricant. Now it was her honest to goodness needy wetness. 

Hec-Tor kept up the circling motion on her clit, but he pulled his face away. He sat up, kneeling in front of her, positioning himself between her legs. 

There was a slight hitch in her breath and she looked up. Face still hidden behind the mask. 

“It’s about to be over.” He promised her. 

She gave the most microscopic of nods.

Slowly, Hec-Tor slid inside her. 

She let out a difficult to interpret sound, somewhere between a strangled gasp and a wet sigh. Like she couldn’t decide if she like it or not. With her mask covering her face, Hec-Tor couldn’t decide if she liked it or not either. But she didn’t tell him to stop. 

And her insides weren’t so uncomfortably tight either. 

Her walls stretched to accommodate him. Hugging the shaft without squeezing and constricting it. He slid inside her slowly, all the way until he felt his balls rest against her folds. He waited, to give her a moment to adjust. 

She lay beneath him, just breathing for a moment. 

Then she gave a sigh and another nod of her mask. “You can move now.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Now that her body wasn’t squeezing and constricting him, her insides felt divine! Warm, and wet, and elastic. Sliding around him easily. Like silk moving over silk. His spines no longer catching on her walls anymore.

It took a few thrusts, but Entrapta finally began moaning her own enjoyment of the motions. The spines stimulating nerves inside her none of her previous partners had been able to get before. Sending waves up pleasure up her body with every inward thrust. She adjusted her hips so that he would slide in at a different angle and that was even better. Entrapta brought her legs up, wrapping them around his narrow hips, pulling him in deeper. As deep as he could go. Her gloves caressing his back, urging him to move faster. 

And he did. 

Move faster. 

Her wordless encouragement was all the command Hec-Tor needed. Increasing his pace. Sliding against her nerves. Pushing them both to a shuddering climax. 

He rolled off of her as soon as they were finished. A line of his cum trickling out from between her folds. 

Entrapta sat up, looking at him. She lifted her welding mask, face flushed. She had not been expecting to enjoy the wedding night. 

Hec-Tor looked exhausted and drained, but he smiled at her. Glad to be able to see her face after what they just did. “That was- I am-“ He stumbled over his words, not sure what to say. He was breathing hard from their exertions and felt the familiar faintness that warned he might lose consciousness. With all the weight he had been losing over the past week, this might have been too much exercise for him. “I am going to pass out.”

And then he did.

Entrapta blinked in confusion at the –suddenly unconscious- body that flopped over her lap.


	7. Then the Next Day

Hec-Tor was alone when he woke up. 

The bed wasn’t even warm where Entrapta had slept. She must have fled the bridal suit the moment the sun came up. 

That was fine. Hec-Tor didn’t know what he would have said to her if she was there anyway. He got up to start his own day. Hopefully one that was closer to his regular schedule then this past week had been. 

Stoppering his ports with silicone plugs, he started with a dust bath. Letting the powder-fine dust cleanse him of the dried sweat and –other- bodily fluids that crusted him over. Sex could be enjoyable, but it was also a messy business. Hec-Tor rubbed down every inch of himself, giving special attention to the most affected areas. Not just his thighs and abdomen, but underarms and back. Where sweat liked to collect. When that was done, he wiped around his ports with antiseptic just to make sure they were clean and sanitary. 

A dutiful servant, or maybe even a member of his own staff, must have slipped in during his bath, because when Hec-Tor stepped out of the washroom, the bed was made and his armor and a fresh gown were laid out on it. They had also left a scale and his personal data pad on the bedside table. Good ol’ Mantenna and Grizzlor, they were the best lieutenants a leader of the Horde could ask for. 

Placing the scale on the floor, Hec-Tor weighed himself, and- a sigh. Yes, he was still losing weight. Another hundred and ten grams since the previous day. Not as much as he’d lost over previous days, but still a loss. Hec-Tor logged the loss in his health tracker app before getting dressed for the day. 

There was a week’s worth of work waiting for him on his desk and he needed to get to it. 

There was more than a week’s worth of work waiting for him. 

Datacards stacked upon datacards. There were more piles than just Imperial business, personal business, and household business. The Imperial business had been split up into multiple piles, each one meticulously labeled with sticky notes in Grizzlor’s surprisingly refined hand writing. The uprising in the mines on Krytis. Famine on Antares now, on account of burning out the blight. The rebellion on Denebria. Issues that, just one short week ago, were small matters that could have been handled in a day, were ignored and allowed to grow into more serious problems for the Empire. 

Hec-Tor rubbed his forehead. The day had barely even started and already he had a headache.

This was a lot to tackle in… however much time Brother was going to give him before he was sent to Etheria and Dryl to oversee his new wife’s weapon’s manufacture.

He took a breath. One thing at a time. Hec-Tor was good at his job. He’d been doing it almost all his life. For about as long as Brother had been the Prime. He would get everything sorted out and the Empire would continue to function like a well-oiled machine. Like the engine of domination it had been since the early days of the First Horde Prime. 

Hec-Tor moved all non-critical datacards off to one side. The ones for his personal business ventures and household concerns were shifted to the side. Along with- 

Hec-Tor paused. 

There was one stack missing from his desk. 

Although, ‘stack’ was inaccurate. It hadn’t been a ‘stack’ of datacards in many, many years. Lately it had just been one sad, lonely, little data file that always read the same thing. ‘No new leads.’ Even so, Hec-Tor wanted to see it anyway. But it wasn’t there today. There should have been more than one. There should have been a week’s worth of them. But there were none. 

There was no update on the search for Keldor on his desk. 

Hec-Tor yanked open the drawer he threw them in when he wasn’t ready to read them. Those were gone too. He pressed the intercom in his desk. 

“This is Grizzlor, attendant to Imperial Prince Hec-Tor Kur of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire.” The deep and gravely voice of Gur’Rull Gu’Rrooow Arrrk, given Imperial name: Grizzlor answered. Originally from the planet Jungulia, Grizzlor looked like a rough and brutish thug who didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. But he was actually a graduate of the Horde Academy on Horde World, not just a graduate, but in the top percentile of his class. Meticulous, organized, and good at his job. Grizzlor would not have just ‘misplaced’ something as important to his Prince as the search for his missing husband. 

“Where are the updates on the search for Keldor?” Hec-Tor demanded. 

“Ah-uh.” Grizzlor hesitated before answering and the channel crackled. Grizzlor never hesitated. Grizzlor was competent and decisive. “The search for Prince Keldor was ended, Your Highness. As- as per order of the Emperor, all remaining datacards containing information on the search were to be delivered to processing to be wiped and repurposed.”

“What!?” Hec-Tor snarled an expletive that was most unbecoming of a Prince of the Horde Empire. How dare he! Brother had no right! “How long ago were they taken to processing?”

“I just dropped them off this morning, Your Highness. Right before heading to meet with Princess Entrapta’s Lady in Waiting in preparation for your journey to Etheria.”

“I’m here too, by the way.” Said a female voice Hec-Tor recognized as one from Entrpata’s party, but he hadn’t yet memorized the face or name that corresponded to it. “What’s a keldor?”

Hec-Tor ended the transmission. 

He stormed out of his officer, and stomped down twelves floors, through countless corridors, shoving palace staff and visiting dignitaries aside, to get to data processing and card scrubbing. 

Two dozen startled IT technicians looked up when he barged in. They almost never got members of the Imperial family down here. This was basically a boring basement. Was he lost?

“Where are the cards my lieutenant dropped off this morning?” He demanded. 

There was a pregnant pause in which no one did or said anything. Still just a little too shocked to process. Hec-Tor grew impatient and angry and snarled a wordless snarl at the lot of them, displaying his razor sharp crimson teeth. Very few in the Empire got to see members of the Imperial family up close, still fewer got to see them angry and live to tell the tale. 

One terrified tech dared to approach, holding out a half-empty tray of less than a dozen cards. It was maybe an eighth of what Hec-Tor had allowed to accumulate on the search for Keldor. 

“Th-these are the only ones that haven’t been scrubbed yet, Your Highness.”

All that information, lost…

Hec-Tor suppressed another snarl. He snatched up the tray –making the tech wince as he did so- and counted the cards. Seven in total. Dates all out of order. Some from only last month, others years old, from all the way back when he first stopped reading them. Hec-Tor gathered up all the cards, turned, and left the room. He discarded the now empty tray by the door where it clattered loudly to punctuate his exit. 

In the lift back up to the administrative floors of the palace, Hec-Tor seethed silently. Standing at a disciplined rest, his arms clasped behind his back, both hands wrapped around the datacards. 

He had half a mind to track down Brother, wherever he was in the palace, and give him a piece of his mind. How dare he! If he wanted to have Keldor declared legally dead, that was his prerogative as Emperor. If he wanted to marry Hec-Tor off to some foreign arms manufacture, whatever, the Empire needed weapons. If he wanted to take Keldor’s wedding ring- Hec-Tor felt the pressure of tears building and he hoped he didn’t start crying before he got back to his office –if he wanted to take the ring, Hec-Tor would adjust. He had a different wedding ring now, and besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have anything left of his husband. He still had Imp. But where did Prime get off calling off the search for Keldor! Taking away the last scrap of hope Hec-Tor had that his husband might be found. 

By the time the lift opened up on Hec-Tor’s floor, he still hadn’t decided if he wanted to confront Brother or not. But he didn’t get the chance to decide. He was distracted by something else. 

Imp and Zed came running up to him. 

Actually, Imp was flying. Zed was hobbling quickly, the breathing tank of his respirator clanking loudly against his armor. 

Imp screeched at him loudly, making his displeasure known. Though, what he was displeased about was unknown. 

Zed grabbed Imp’s hand the moment the other boy was no longer moving. His breath wheezed out when he spoke, but his voice was firm, almost commanding. Like the young Horde Prime-to-be that he was. “You cannot take Imp when you leave. I will not allow it.”

Still flapping next to him, Imp squawked an agreement. He tried to Sign a more detailed explanation to his father. That they had always been together. That Zed needed him and he could not leave. That if the adults tried to separate them, they would fight back. They were sons of the Kur Dynasty same as their fathers. They would be respected. 

But it was difficult Signing with only one hand and only half Imp’s message got across. 

Hec-Tor glared at the boys. 

At any other time, he would have been proud of them for asserting themselves. For digging their heels in and refusing to back down. For demanding to be taken just as seriously as any other Princes of the Horde Empire. 

But they cought him at a bad time. 

Hec-Tor was already in a foul mood and was not in the right state of mind to entertain children’s tantrums, or explain how the world worked. 

“Enough!” He snarled at the boys, voice louder than he needed to be. Behind his back, his hands tightened around the few datacards on the search for Keldor. “Horde Prime has dictated that I must go to Etheria, so to Etheria I will go, and my son shall remain with me.”

Imp was all he had left of Keldor. 

“I will fight you, Uncle!” Zed was probably the least threatening creature in the universe. 

“You will return to your keepers and continue with whatever items your father placed on your agenda for today.” Hec-Tor informed him. “Imp, you will report to Mantenna to help you prepare for our immenant departure.”

Both boys hissed. Zed’s sound morphing into a snarl half-way. Mouth open, teeth showing. He let go of Imp’s hand and assumed a fighting stance. It was off balance. The placement of his feet clumsy. Zed was not a great warrior. Zed was also a five-year-old child with severe physical limitations that would prevent him from ever becoming a great warrior. The idea that Zed seriously wanted to fight him was laughable. 

Hec-Tor actually laughed at him. 

Zed pounced on him. Trying to jump to compensate for the height difference. Failing to get more than a couple centimeters off the ground and still stumbled on his landing. Zed tried to kick Hec-Tor in the shins instead. 

Imp squawked.

The metal plating of Hec-Tor’s boots absorbed Zed’s blow and the child ended up doing more damage to himself than to his uncle. His toe and whole foot erupting with pain. The boy hollered. 

Then paused. 

“Is your infantile tantrum over?” Hec-Tor glared down at the boys. 

Zed did not respond, his expression oddly blank. Hec-Tor also froze, recognizing the warning sign. Zed went still as a board, his muscles rigid. Then collapsed. 

Hec-Tor went down next to him. Dropping his handful of datacards as he tried to catch the boy. Or at the very least cushion his fall. 

Zed’s body began twitching and jerking. His muscles seizing. 

Imp shrieked in distress. 

“Stay back.” Hec-Tor growled at his son. When a person was having a seizure, you wanted to keep the area clear. Give them room. Hec-Tor also swept the fallen datacards aside, out of the way. Removing anything from the immediate space that Zed mind injure himself on during his uncontrollable convulsions. 

Imp fluttered into the air, keeping his space from his cousin. Squawking with concern. This was not the first seizure he’d witnessed. But each time was still concerning for the still very young child. 

Hec-Tor looked around, checking the chronometer on the wall to time the seizure. It wasn’t even a full minute yet. That wasn’t that bad. 

A passing secretary paused, staring at the scene. Unsure and slightly scared. That was the Heir Apparent on the floor twitching. 

“Go get Horde Prime!” Hec-Tor snarled at him. 

They ran away immediately. Presumably to go get the boy’s father. Or someone with enough clearance to get the boy’s father. 

Hec-Tor glanced at the chronometer on the wall again. Now it had been a full minute since the seizure started. Hec-Tor rolled Zed onto his side, to help keep the boy’s airway clear. Zed had enough breathing problems as if was without a seizure constricting his pipes. 

The seizure was entering its second minute when Horde Prime arrived. Immediately going to his knees next to Hec-Tor. 

“How long?” He demanded, all pretense of a calm and commanding Emperor gone. Voice tight. Expression concerned. The image of a fearful parent watching their child suffer and knowing there was nothing they could do. All one could do for a seizure was wait it out. 

“It has not yet been two minutes.” Hec-Tor informed him. This was not the first seizure of Zed’s he had attended. 

Prime nodded. Two minutes was about average for one of Zed’s seizures. Less than two minutes was great! More than two minutes was concerning. Five minutes or more and you had to pick him up off the floor and rush him to the palace infirmary because that was a medical emergency. 

Finally, the convulsing subsided. Zed stopped twitching. He lay on his side, still and unconscious. The only sound in the corridor, the respirator strapped to his armor breathing for him. 

Hec-Tor looked back up at the chronometer on the wall. “One minute, fifty-six seconds.”

Just under two minutes. The better side of average for one of Zed’s seizures. It wasn’t that bad. 

Horde Prime gathered the unconscious boy up into his arms. “I shall see to my son.”

“Of course.” Hec-Tor backed up to give his Brother some space. 

Prime paused, looking at Hec-Tor. Holding Zed in his arms, he paused. “You…” It seemed almost as if he did not know what to say. “I have always appreciated how you treat Zed as if he were your own.”

“He is my nephew.” Hec-Tor stated, as if confused. Why wouldn’t he care about Zed and treat him as family? They were family. 

Still holding the unconscious boy in his harms, Prime took a step closer to Hec-Tor. Leaning in. So that their faces were unnecessarily close together. “Brother…”

Then Zed groaned in his sleep. 

Prime turned his attention back to his one and only living child. “I will be indisposed for the rest of the day. Any matters that require the Emperor’s attention will be forwarded to you.”

Prime carried Zed away. 

Hec-Tor stood there, watching his Brother’s retreating back. 

Imp gathered up the discarded datacards, crawling around on the floor to make sure he got all of them. Then tugged on the hem of his father’s gown. He offered up the handful of datacards when his father looked down. 

Bending down, Hec-Tor picked the boy up, hugging him to his own chest. He was never more thankful for the magic that made Imp than right after one of Zed’s episodes. Magic that allowed for Keldor to combine their genes safely to creature a –comparatively- healthy being. Imp might have his own physical deformities and be functionally mute, but he would never have to suffer the same afflictions and impairments as his cousin. 

“I want this to be the end of any tantrums about leaving.” He told the boy. “Zed must stay with Anillis and you will come with me, and you will not get Zed worked up over this again.”

Imp gave a forlorn little chirp and nodded against his father’s armor. 

Hec-Tor carried him back to his office with him. 

He set the boy down in his own chair and paced the room, feeling anxious and worked up. Nothing wracked the nerves harder than watching a child you helped raise convulse on the ground uncontrollably. Even if said convulsions were a semi-normal thing. Add that to the already stressful week he had and Hec-Tor was having a somewhat difficult time calming down. 

Unfurling his wings, Imp flapped out of the chair and fluttered over to his father, trying to give him the datacards again. Maybe Dad would feel better if he had this work that he was carrying around before Zed had his episode. 

This time, Hec-Tor did take the stack of cards from the boy. 

Then he sighed. “Sometimes I wish you did remember Keldor.”

Imp tilted his head, not understanding. 

“Etheria, the planet we will be going to, is located in the same system as his home planet. Eternia.” Hec-Tor informed him son. “You are half-Eternian.”

Or would Imp be considered half-Gar? Since that was Keldor’s race, Eternian was just his nationality. Nationality was a circumstance of birth, not a characteristic of one’s genetics. 

Imp only gave a half-hearted little trill. He didn’t really care. Horde World and the Imperial palace was all he’d ever know. 

Finally, Hec-Tor calmed down enough to sit at his desk, Imp perching on the back on his chair. He tapped Keldor’s datacards on the desk. Going all the way down to processing to collect them when all they would probably say was that there were no new leads and Keldor remained lost seemed so absurd now. 

And he lost an entire morning of work too. 

Any moment now his staff would be bringing lunch and medication to him here in this office. The day was half gone and he had nothing to show for it. He opened a drawer in his desk, the same drawer he’d been throwing them in for years. The same drawer they were taken out of to be sent to processing. Hec-Tor losed the drawer without stowing the cards in it. 

Instead, he passed the stack back to Imp. “Pack these for me.” He commanded. “I will read them after we have left Horde World.” 

Not understanding, but still feeling the obedience of guilt over Zed’s seizure, Imp took the cards. He nodded to his father then fluttered out of the room. 

Hec-Tor massaged his forehead. He had the absolute worst headache.


	8. Things Are Underway

The Imperial docking bays were a whirlwind of activity. It seemed like too much was going on, and, at the same time, nothing was happening at all. 

Imperial guards, both clone trooper and enlisted blocked off more than half of the ship docks. Anything within half a kilometer of the Princess Entrapta’s shuttle was shut down. Merchants and pilots could not get to their own ships. Ships awaiting clearance could not land. To those on the outside, it seemed like the world was put on pause. On hold, and frozen while their leaders dithered around doing nothing. 

Inside the perimeter of guards, it was organized chaos as servants loaded, not only Princess Entrapta’s shuttle, but an Imperial freighter as well. Baggage belonging to the Princess, the Ladies of her party, Imperial Prince Hec-Tor, and his son went into the shuttle. As well as tanks of fresh water, food stuffs, and sanitary supplies. Into the freighter went the Empires first down payment of supplies and materials for Entrapta’s research. 

Administrative assistants stood on either side of the loading gangways checking off crates as they were hauled on. Making sure this went on this ship, no that goes on that ship. Where is the Prince’s arm cannon? Has anyone seen the Princess’ back-up tool kit? 

While all that was going on at the space docks, back at the Imperial palace, Prince Hec-Tor was meeting with his lieutenants. 

The plan was for the Prince and his son to ride with the Princess in her shuttle up to Monstron, Prince Hec-Tor’s flagship, the twin of the Velvet Glove. Entrapta’s shuttle would then dock with Monstron and they would take the Prince’s ship the rest of the way to Etheria. 

Except, Hec-Tor was adding a few stops to the agenda. 

“We will stop in the Krytis system to address the uprising in the mines.” He said, walking circles around Mantenna and Grizzlor as they took notes on their own personal datapads. Visuals of the flight plan, its detours, troop accompaniments, and so on were displayed on a screen behind him. “If necessary, we will leave a contingent of our own clone troopers there to maintain order. Then we will go to Denebria and take back the base on the Nordor moon.”

Grizzlor’s stylus danced wildly over his datapad, taking notes and making lists. Working out the logistics of not one, but two military strikes during their journey to Etheria. 

Mantenna raised a hand. “Your Highness, are you sure this is how you want to spend you honeymoon?”

Hec-Tor frowned at him. 

“I just-“ The Rebrunk Nuru faltered under that critical gaze. “You only just got married. Don’t you, I donno… spend time getting to know your new spouse instead of going off to battle.”

“Keeping this Empire together and stable is far more important that my learning what flavor of carbonated beverage Entrapta favors.” The Prince reminded his lieutenants. 

Grizzlor held his stylus to his lips, feigning deliberating over the military logistics. His large paw hiding the smile of a silent laugh behind his hand. Prince Hec-Tor might not know his wife’s favorite flavor, but he did at least know that she only drank fizzy drinks, and that was information no one told him. He just noticed it on his own. 

…

Things did not finally calm down until the royal couple and all their attendants were aboard Monstron. 

Entrapta’s shuttle docking in the main hangar bay, the exterior blast doors sealing shut behind them. The hatch to Entrapta’s shuttle was opened with a hiss of equalizing pressure and the gangplank lowered. 

Rows upon rows of clone troopers greeted them. All arranged in disciplined formations, standing at parade rest. They snapped to attention when Prince Hec-Tor and Princess Entrapta exited the shuttle. A satisfying display of military pageantry. 

Behind him, Hec-Tor’s pointed ear picked up a snickered remark from Catra, “Cute action figures. They’ve got the full set.”

Admiral Callix was commander of the Monstron when the Prince was not aboard, and he stepped forward to greet Hec-Tor and his new wife, and cede control of the ship to him. 

Callix was not a clone. Clones lacked the independent thinking necessary to fill any leadership position higher than a sergeant. Any officer of rank in the Imperial military was an enlisted alien that had proved themselves and risen through the ranks. Callix was a Stoneman from planet Quarry. Very few beings in the military were taller than Hec-Tor and Horde Prime, but Stonemen grew big and Callix towered over Hec-Tor. A mountain next to a tree. 

“Your Highness, congratulations on your recent nuptials.” He said. “And to you, Princess, I welcome you to-“

He was cut off when Entrapta rose up on her hair, a tape measure inexplicably appearing from out of nowhere. “Ooh! You’re a Stoneman, right?” She asked excitedly. “I’ve read about you. You don’t usually leave Quarry. I never thought I’d get to meet one of you up close before.”

Moving on her hair, she drifted around the Admiral. Using her tape measure to gauge the circumference of his arm, the width of his shoulders, the length of his chin. 

Callix was a military man. He was disciplined. He held his composure. That did not mean he wasn’t confused or uneasy. “Your Highness?” He looked to Hec-Tor for help. Or, at the very least, an explanation. 

“Princess Entrapta is keenly curious.” He tried to sooth the Admiral. “About everything.” Then, to Entrapta, “Perhaps we should let the Admiral go for now. I’m sure he has work to do. There will be time to invade his privacy once we are in hyperspace.”

It was the ‘invade his privacy’ remark that made Entrapta stop. It was something she struggled with. Not exactly knowing what was and was not a boundary unless explicitly stated in words. As Entrapta told him very early on, she did not understand body language or subtle social cues. She needed to be told when her attentions were an ‘invasion’. 

Entrapta clapped her hair together excitedly. “I’d love to see the engines as you charge up the hyperdrive. How long is the turn around time between powering up the drive and actually making the jump to hyperspace? With all the technology of the Empire, I would imagine very fast, but my research has also told me that it takes longer for larger vessels and this is one of the largest ships in the universe!”

Callix looked concerned again, turning his attention back to the Prince for guidance. 

“Entrapta is an Imperial Princess and my wife.” He informed the Admiral. “She is to have free reign of the ship. All decks, all chambers –except private personnel quarters, of course. If her inquiries or explorations raise any concerns, you are to bring them to me directly.”

“Yes, sir.” Callix nodded. 

Entrapta twirled on her hair excitedly. She was gonna learn so much about the Empire’s capital ships and technology! Monstron was one of the most advanced ships in the universe, second only to the Velvet Glove. And Hec-Tor had just given her permission to do whatever she wanted! (So long as she didn’t barge into anyone’s bedroom.) He probably didn’t want her taking apart vital systems. But there was still so much a person could learn without taking things apart first. 

She wrapped her hair around Hec-Tor in an enthusiastic hug. Just her hair. Not her arms or her body. “This is gonna be so great!” 

Behind them a loud squawk issued from the shuttle and Imp flew out. Sailed circles around the hanger –he’d never been inside a war ship before, he’d never left the Imperial Palace- then came to land on his father’s shoulder. 

“My son is not to have free reign of the ship.” Hec-Tor informed the Admiral. “He is to be accompanied by an adult at all times, and if you see him unaccompanied, he is to be brought to me immediately.”

Imp crawled down his father’s arm enough that he could be in the older man’s line of sight when he Signed, ‘But, why?’

“A spaceship is not a play place.” He informed the boy. “You cannot carry on here as you carried on at the Palace.” 

He did not want his son trying to climb into one of the ship’s ventilation ducts and getting stuck. 

Imp gave a forlorn little trill. 

Entrapta wrapped a tendril of hair around him. “I’m an adult. I can accompany you if you wanna explore the ship.”

He gave a more optimistic noise, then looked sideways at his father. He did say Imp had to be accompanied by an adult at all times. He didn’t say who that adult could or could not be, or where he could or could not go. Imp really, really liked Dad’s new wife. She was crafty. Exactly his kind of crafty. Entrapta was easily becoming Imp’s new favorite adult. 

Hec-Tor cast a disapproving frown at both of them. 

“Oh, unclench.” Entrapta smiled at him. “I was already gonna explore the ship anyway, and Imp and I seem to get along okay. It wouldn’t be an inconvenience for me, and I can keep an eye on him –even if I’m looking at something else. I’m good at multi-tasking.”

“No vents.” Hec-Tor declared firmly. 

Entrapta smiled at him. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Hec-Tor made an ambiguous throat noise. He set the terms and the boundaries and Entrpata found a way to work within them. Still giving Imp a variation of ‘free reign’ of the ship without violating any of his stipulations. Imp would always be with an adult, and Entrapta would keep the child out of the ship’s ventilation system. She would adhere to the literal letter of his rules without breaking them and still give Imp what he wanted. She was smart. Smart and crafty. 

“Yes.” He groaned. “But remember that Imp must take medications three times a day and they must be taken with food. He is to report to the galley or one of my personal staff to be served. If he misses even one done, you both will lose privileges.”

Imp whined. 

Entrapta nodded. “Understood.”

Then they both scampered off together to explore the ship. 

Hec-Tor groaned again. 

Callix only remained standing still. “I’ve been told children often have a difficult time accepting a step-parent, but Prince Imp seems quite taken with the Princess Entrapta.” 

“Imp would be taken with anyone in a position to let him get away with half the things he tries to pull.” Hec-Tor told the other man. Then cleared his throat. These were not the things one confided in a military subordinate. “Take me to the bridge. As soon as the Princess’ shuttle is unloaded and her party is settled, we will make the jump to lightspeed. The Krytis system will be first.”

…

Krytis was a prison colony first and a mining operation second. 

That meant it was very difficult to sneak into, and even more difficult to smuggle weapons into. But Evil-Lyn was a master sorceress and clever to boot and she found a way. 

After that, it really did not take much to motivate the prisoners of Krytis to rise up and overthrow their wardens. Not every inmate and prisoner of Krytis was a rapist or a murderer. Most were political prisoners, deserters, or defectors. ‘Decent’ people who presented one challenge or another to the Empire or the Imperial family and ‘disappeared’ for it. It really did not take much, after furnishing them with weapons and promising some magical backup, to convince them to revolt. 

That was over a week ago by now, and the Empire was yet to retaliate. 

“Good work, Lyn.” Her colleague praised over a video screen. His face covered by a hood so that it was hard to make out his features. The only she visitible was a bone-white chin, and the lower pallet of exposed teeth. No lips or flesh to hide them. 

“We experienced only a little resistance at first, then when no backup from the empire came, they all just laid down their arms and surrendered.” Evil-Lyn was telling him. 

Her hooded partner nodded. “Prince Hec-Tor is the one who really runs the Empire. With him distracted by his wedding, no orders to retaliate would have been sent. But now that that’s over he will retaliate, and with force. You should leave Krytis right away. I am almost done here in Denebria. We’ll rendezvous at Snake Mountain on Eternia.”

“Understood.” Nodded Evil-Lyn. Then hesitated. Then asked anyway. “After we get back to Snake Mountain do you wanna talk? About the Prince, I mean, and the fact that he’s… remarried.”

The one on the other end was silent a beat longer than Lyn felt was necessary. 

Then, “We will need to discuss how this marriage will affect the Imperial military and our own plans. Dryl is an industrial arms manufacture and Princess Entrapta is the mind behind it. Our missions might become more complicated in the future because of this.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Lyn shot back. “I mean, how do you feel?” 

“Nothing.” The hooded figure assured her. “I feel nothing. It is absurd to think that Horde Prime would let him remain a widower this long. It was a waste of resources. Hec-Tor would have had to remarry eventually. Horde Prime was just holding out until he could get the best price possible for his brother’s hand. And look, he got the most powerful weapons manufacture in the universe. My opinion does not matter.”

Evil-Lyn smirked. He let something slip. “But you do have an opinion.”

If that bare, bone-white chin and teeth still have flesh and muscle on it, he would have frowned. Instead, the jaw just clenched. “Get off Krytis before Hec-Tor rains fire down on you from space. I’ll see you at Snake Mountain, and I don’t want to be asked about my ‘feelings’ again.”

He ended the transmission. 

…

On the other end of the transmission, half a galaxy away, in the Denebria system, Skeletor leaned back on what passed for a throne on the Nordor base. He reached a hand under the collar of his hood and pulled out a chain. A plain, unassuming metal chain, with a plain, unadorned silver ring hanging from it. 

Skeletor held the ring in his hand. A plane band. Utilitarian. Silver, because the one who gave it to him felt the gray metal complemented his naturally blue skin better than gold would have. And he was right. The silver had looked very good on his hand, for many years. 

But that was a lifetime ago. Skeletor was a different man back then. 

He thought about throwing the ring away more than once. It was a hold out from another life. One he left behind and shoulder hold any sway over him anymore. But, each time he tried, something always held him back. Some small voice reminding him, you never know. It might come in handy some time. You never know. Remember: the ring has a twin somewhere out in the universe. On the hand of the second most powerful man in the Empire. 

Well, it wouldn’t be on his hand anymore. Prince Hec-Tor would have a new ring now. A new ring to match his new spouse. 

Skeletor should throw it away. 

He should. 

He didn’t need it. 

It wasn’t relevant anymore. 

He unclipped the chain from around his neck. Holding the ring out in front of him. He could just drop it on the floor and one of the mutants of Nordor would find it and could claim it as their own. It was silver. Who would pass up the chance to claim a precious metal as their own? There might even be a fun fight over it. Or, he could get up and toss it in the garbage compactor. To be squished and compressed in with all the rest of the base’s waste before it was jettisoned into space. 

No. Not that. Not the garbage. 

Skeletor should throw the ring away. But no method for disposing of the item seemed appropriate to him. 

He would just keep it until a solution presented itself. 

That was all. That was why he was re-clasping the chain back around his neck and tucking the ring back under his hood. He did not have an appropriate method of disposal. That was it. There was no other reason. 

Skeletor stood from the throne. 

He needed to get moving too. After Hec-Tor finished with Krytis, Denebria and Nordor would be his next stop. Skeletor had to be gone before then. 

He was not ready to meet with Hec-Tor skull to face.


	9. Quick Strike on Krytis

The Prince and Princess technically shared a stateroom. However, Hec-Tor did not see Entrapta in his –their, while she was aboard Monstron it was theirs- their quarters more than twice.

He kept to a rigorous schedule. Between his medication regiment, the demands of his condition, and his body’s natural needs, Hec-Tor could not deviate from his routine. As a result of this, Hec-Tor entered the room at the same time every ship’s day, bathed (dust bath) at the same time, changed at the same time, slept at the same time, rose at the same time. 

Entrapta on the other hand was sporadic and inconsistent. She was a cheerful, hundred-fifty centimeter tall, ball of hair and chaos. She came and went as she the impulse struck her. Bathed (a water bath, with bubbles) when she remembered, and slept when she was tired. 

One time, Hec-Tor was already in bed. Mostly asleep. He dreamed a lilac spider creeped into the room through the vents even though he forbade spiders and bat-children from going in the vents. Then it turned into a snake, and slithered about the room shedding its skin, before disappearing into the refresher where he heard it waste three hundred liters of the ship’s water. When the creature came out again it had turned into a humanoid female and was humming siren song. It put new skin on and exited out the door. When Hec-Tor woke up at his usual time the next ‘morning’ Entrapta’s clothes were strewn all over the floor and the refresher was wet. 

Another time he walked into the stateroom at his usual time to bath before resting and found Entrapta asleep in the bed. A non-standard issue blanket added to the bed. Hec-Tor lifted a corner of it to examine the blanket curious, and found it heavier than it looked. A weighted blanket. He then noticed that she was naked under the covers and dropped the blanket, face flushed. He did not mean to invade her privacy or peep at her body while she was not awake to consent. The corner of the blanket flopped down with a heavy THUMP and Entrapta stirred. 

She sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes. Completely oblivious to the fact that she was naked. The blanket falling down to expose her nipples. “Oh, did I over sleep? Sorry. I meant to be gone by the time you needed the bed.”

Entrapta climbed out of bed. Then turned around and bent down to fold up her weighted blanket. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was still naked. More naked than she had been on their wedding night. She wasn’t wearing her mask or gloves. They were carefully arranged on the bedside table. 

Face red, Hec-Tor turned. Not just averting his eyes but his whole body too. It somehow seemed wrong for him to be admiring the almost mathematically perfect curves of her backside. Sure, they had already had sex. But not because either one of them had invited the other. It didn’t count. They were essentially strangers to one another. 

After she was sure her blanket was neatly folded and out of his way, then she put her mask and gloves back on. Tugging the gloves onto her hands snuggly before lifting the metal mask and snapping it around her head. Then turned around to select some clean clothing. And found his back to her, his ears and neck a vibrant –almost violent- shade of red. Not the color his skin usually was. Usually a warning color in most races.

“Are you okay!?” Moving on her hair, she wafted around him in moments. Raising herself up so that she could examine him more closely. Leaning in to get a better look at the deep red flush of his ears and neck. “There’s no rash or raised flesh. So, it’s not an allergic reaction.”

She raised herself up higher to get a look at the top of his head. The redness extended up to his forehead, but not all the way over his scalp. 

The shift in her position moved her breast almost up to his nose and Hec-Tor inhaled the scent of fresh perspiration from sleep. A warm, inviting scent that heated his blood and excited his body. 

“I can help you if you tell me what’s wrong.” Entrapta promised. 

Only a hollow croaking sound escaped his throat. 

“Are you experiencing breathing problems?” She asked. “A constricted pharynx?”

He took a breath to try and calm himself and steady his nerves. It did not help. “I am- -uninjured.”

Entrapta blinked at him. “Then what’s wrong?”

Closing his eyes, Hec-Tor took a step back. He groped around blindly until he felt the storage drawers built into the wall. Yanking one open, he pulled out the first item of fabric his hand touched and hoped it was one of hers. Hec-Tor held it out to her. 

There was a silent pause. 

He peeked one eye open. 

She was still naked. Staring at the pair of overalls he was holding out to her. Entrapta looked down at her own body, as if noticing for the first time that she was naked. 

“Oh.”

Lowering herself back down so that her feet were on the floor, Entrapta coiled her hair around herself, hiding her body. She averted her eyes. Her own cheeks coloring an embarrassed shade of pink. Nudity wasn’t a big deal to her. Bodies weren’t anything to be ashamed of. Bodies were interesting. Everyone had a body. Hiding your body, being embarrassed by bodies, being ashamed of your own body was just silly. But, she also understood that not everyone thought like her. In fact, the vast majority of people did not think like her. This was a fact Entrapta knew, but every now and again had to be reminded of. 

“Right.” She took the overalls he was holding out to her. Then moved around him to pull out underclothes, a shirt, her rash guard, and socks. In a whirl of motion and hair, Entrapta quickly dressed herself. When her lilac locks parted again, she was fully clothed. “Sorry. You probably wanna go to sleep. Sorry I made the bed all sweaty.”

When she left, she exited through the door, not the vent. 

Those were the only two times Hec-Tor crossed paths with Entrapta in their own quarters. 

In fact, he very rarely crossed paths with her at all. Monstron was a large ship. One of the two largest ships in all the Imperial Space Navy. It was larger than most planetary space stations. A small city unto itself. It was entirely possible for two individuals to spent their whole military careers aboard Monstron and never meet each other. 

He saw Entrapta once or twice in the mess when she would bring Imp in for meals. Never staying long. Certainly never stopping to sit down and eat with them. Entrapta did not eat the food cooked and served by the ship’s galley. She had very particular eating habits and a military diet did not accommodate for that. She did make sure Imp got a full portion from the chow line and helped the child carry his trey over to Hec-Tor. And they did exchange words. 

“Did you see that last course correction?” She smiled at him. “I wasn’t in the engine room at the time, I was passing the aft observation deck on my way to the energizer room, and I got to see all the starlines turn back into stars! Isn’t hyperspace just fascinating. Its faster than lightspeed travel, which everyone always thought was possible until one scientist came up with the equation that broke that barrier! Now, every ship, regardless of who builds it, is equipped with a hyperdrive!”

She was speaking louder than she needed to, and moving around on her hair a lot, gesturing wildly with her arms in her excitement. 

Hec-Tor had to stare at her for a few moments after she stopped talking. Just to make sure she was actually finished. “Without a hyperdrive the trip to Krytis alone would have taken forty years. The complete journey to Etheria over a hundred.”

“Right!” Entrapta nodded. “That’s what makes the technology so fascinating. Isn’t it wonderful!”

The technology allowed the armies of the Empire cross the expanses of space to maintain order in the universe. So, he agreed with her. The technology was wonderful. “Yes.”

“Anyway, I heard some of the Enlisted talking and we’re gonna be reaching Krytis in a few hours.” She announced. This was news to him. No one had told Hec-Tor that they were only within hours of their first destination –and he was the commander of this ship! “I wanna be in the engine room when we come out of hyperspace. See if there’s anything different between coming out of HS in a solar system within a star’s gravity well, as opposed to just empty space. Like, how does the ship compensate for the drag?” 

She dashed off, skipping on her hair before he could reply. 

Imp called after her wordlessly. He wanted purple-spider-mama to eat with them. 

Hec-Tor placed a plastic cup containing the boy’s medications on his meal tray in front of him. A silent reminded that he was not here to play. He was here to eat, and medicate, and hydrate. 

“Once we get to Krytis, you are to remain in my quarters and not come out until I come to collect you.” Hec-Tor informed his son. “I do not foresee any retaliation or danger coming to the ship, but I would still prefer knowing that you are safe and out of the way.”

The boy chirped a disagreement. He didn’t want to be locked up in his Dad’s boring bedroom. He wanted to see the battle. 

Hec-Tor only fixed the boy with a pointed glare. Silently letting him know that if he disobeyed this order, then he would be confined to quarters for the duration of their journey to Etheria and not be allowed out until it was time to disembark for Dryl. 

Imp lowered his eyes. He knew when he could bend or blatantly disobey his father’s word and when he could not. This was one of the times he could not. With a forlorn little grumble, Imp ate his food, took his meds, and drank his water without complaint. 

Nearing the end of the meal was when a clone trooper approached them to convey –the clones could not speak- to Hec-Tor that they would be coming out of hyperspace soon and that Admiral Callix requested the Prince’s presence on the bridge. 

Hec-Tor escorted his son to his quarters personally and made sure Imp was staying put before making his way to the command bridge. 

“Ah, Your Highness.” Callix greeted him with the requisite bow. “We will be coming out in the Krytis system soon.”

“So I have been informed.” Nodded the Prince. 

He cast his eyes around the bridge. All enlisted aliens at the command stations. Clone troopers were not allowed the quick wits and adaptive reasoning skills necessary for high-level command positions. 

“What do we know of the situation on Krytis?” He asked the room. Partially to be briefed on any new updates that might have come through while he was away from the command post, but also just to make sure his own crew had a clear understanding of what their purpose was here. 

“Krytis is a mining planet and penal colony.” Supplied one officer. 

“Just over a week ago, some of the inmates there got their paws on real weapons and staged a riot that turned into a prison break.” Explained another. “Now the prisoners are the wardens.”

“So now we’re here because we can’t have rapist, murderers, and political dissidents holding the ore and the mines hostage to the Empire.” Finished a third. 

Well, at least they understood why they were here. That was good. 

“As of the last intel report, the fighting has stopped.” Callix informed the room. “The inmates have full control of the facility and if we do not act fast they will dig in and establish a stable base. Possibly even establish contact and collaborate with the Empire’s other enemies on other worlds.”

Hec-Tor nodded. “The easiest way to end a rebellion is to nip it in the bud, stop it before it can even begin.”

Something he would have been able to do with Brother hadn’t kept him from his work for a week. Over a week now. If Hec-Tor had been allowed to deal with the riot in the mines when he first received the alert, he could have dispatched the navy earlier and wiped the dissidents out. Instead, they were given a week to regroup. Clear out their keepers. To treat their wounded. Shore up their defenses. Establish something resembling stability. They were given the opportunity to prepare for an Imperial attack. 

“We will establish a stationary orbit over the main mining facility.” Callix announced. “From there we will teleport our clone troopers down as an advanced force. They will test the defenses and weapons. Once we know more, we can send a more appropriately equipped force.”

“Coming out of hyperspace now.” Announced a bridge officer. 

Hec-Tor watched on the main view screen as the mottled canopy of hyperspace drew back into the streaking starlines of lightspeed, then, finally, into the starts themselves as the ship decelerated to a system speed. The planet of Krytis in front of them, growing larger on the view as they drew closer. A mostly blue sphere with a few while clouds marbled here and there. From space, it looked rather pretty. A foggy sapphire. Just looking at it from space, one would never guess that it was a penal colony and industrial mine. It looked like it didn’t have any industry at all. 

“We are close enough for energizer teleportation.” Announced one of the bridge crew. 

“Wait until we have established stationary orbit.” Ordered Prince Hec-Tor. 

As much as he wanted to deal with Krytis quickly and decisively, he also only want to have to do it once. He wanted to make sure it was done right the first time so that he did not have to come back. Hec-Tor still had to stop at Denebria as well, and Brother would grow impatient if Hec-Tor and Entrapta did not return to Dryl on Etheria to begin in weapons manufacture in –what Prime would consider- a timely manner. 

…

The island of Mondor on planet Krytis was the largest of the Horde’s mines, and the first to be overthrown by the prisoners there. 

The guards were tied up, locked in the most dangerous shafts, or just killed outright. That done, they turned their attention to the skies, looking for the inevitable retaliation for the Empire. But a week past and no army descended on them from the sky. When no attack came, the liberated minors allowed themselves to relax. 

Breaking into the wardens private larders, they cracked open the alcohol to celebrate their hard won freedom. 

Beer, and ale, and whisky. All the grain alcohols. 

They were tipsy –if not all out drunk- when retaliation from the Empire finally did arrive. 

And arrive in force. 

Three squads of stoic faced clone troopers teleporting down from a warship above. They swarmed through the mining campus with surgical accuracy, taking out anything that put up even the slightest amount of hostility. The Empire never even needed to send down their more specialized, Enlisted troops. 

Everything was quiet by the time Prince Hec-Tor and his lieutenants beamed down. A semi-circle of clones surrounding the energizer target just in case there were any stragglers they missed that might appreciate the opportunity to pop-off the Emperor’s brother right after beaming to the planet when his guard was still down. 

“Search the campus.” Ordered Hec-Tor. “Any prisoners left alive are to be interrogated.”

He strode through the quiet campus, passing impassive, statuesque clones at every turn and intersection. 

Bending down next to the fallen body of one of the prisoners, Hec-Tor plucked the corps’ weapon from its still-limp paws. He glared at it critically, eyes narrowing. He did not like what he saw or what it implied. “This is an Imperial issue weapon.”

“That could just mean they picked it off one of the guards.” Mantenna suggested a more mundane explanation than what the Prince was thinking. 

Grizzlor pulled out his datapad. “What’s its serial number? I’ll run it.”

Hec-Tor passed his lieutenant the weapon. Grizzlor punched it into his data pad. 

“This one’s from a shipment that was reported stolen in-rout to the Horde Academy.” Grizzlor announced. “Someone gave them these weapons and incited the riot and prison break.”

“But why?” Asked Mantenna. “Whoever orchestrated this must have know that we could take back Krytis easily. I mean, most of these prisoners have never held a weapon before. They’re political prisoners, not hardened soldiers. What could someone possibly stand to gain from this? Aside from just irritating the Empire.”

They continued touring the campus. 

Hec-Tor had two clones open the mineral storage bunkers for him to inspect. While the minerals mined on Krytis were not exactly vital to the Empire, they were still a useful resource and used by their military. Hec-Tor wanted to make sure this little riot and revolt didn’t damage their stock piles. 

It was all gone. 

Every single bunker and storage warehouse was empty. 

With a growl of frustration, Hec-Tor lifted his arm canon and blew the walls out of the last bunker he inspected. “This! This is what they stood to gain by inciting this revolt!”

Grizzlor and Mantenna both had to take a couple steps back to avoid a molten steel beam falling on them. 

“This would imply that whoever orchestrated this has a larger plan in mind.” Grizzlor pointed out. 

Lowering his arm canon, Hec-Tor stepped back out of the melting bunker. “I want a team to sweep this entire compound. This facility is not to be put back into operation until I know who was here.”

“Enlisted or clones, Your Highness?” Asked Mantenna, pulling out his own datapad to file the order. 

“Enlisted. Clones do not have the critical reasoning skills necessary for an investigation.” Ordered the Prince. 

“The Empire does have its own division for Security and Investigation.” Grizzlor reminded him. 

“But they do not report to me.” Hec-Tor shot back. He wanted to remain in control of this. Letting things out of his control was exactly what got them in this mess.


	10. Back on the Ship

Entrapta was disappointed that Hec-Tor did not allow her down to the planet. 

She had never been to Krytis before. The Horde Empire always kept the planet very secure. Only official imperial vehicles were allowed to land on it –be they transport dropping off new prisoners/workers, or cargo ships picking up crates of ore and minerals from the mines. No commercial or domestic craft were allowed within the planet’s finite space. Most commercial space routs navigated around the system entirely. There wasn’t really anything on Krytis or in the system that would interest the average citizen anyway. 

Entrapta had always been curious about it. 

But Hec-Tor would not allow her to beam down. He said it was a security issue. He was not very clear on if it was unsecure for her, or if he for some reason thought she was a security issue. Entrapta hated it when people were not clear. It made for so many misunderstandings. Misunderstandings happened around her all the time. 

But Entrapta promised to try and understand him when she didn’t. 

If he felt it wasn’t secure for her, as in, not safe for her, he needn’t worry. Entrapta might be a Princess (technically Queen), but she wasn’t helpless. She was stronger than she looked, there was muscle under her overalls. And her hair was ten times as strong as her body. She could bend steel with her hair if she wanted. And, while from the outside it might look like she was easily distracted and didn’t pay attention to her surroundings, Entrapta was actually quite good at multi-tasking. She was always acutely aware of her surroundings. She could follow a conversation between two people on the opposite side of the room while still putting together a tech project of her own, and not miss a beat of either. If an enemy might to sneak up on her, Entrapta would know, and she could defend herself. So, if the ‘security issue’ was that Hec-Tor feared for her safety, he didn’t have to. 

The other possibility was that her new husband thought she might be the security issue. In other words, that Entrapta couldn’t be trusted with Imperial matters. If that was the case, she couldn’t help but feel insulted and rejected in equal measure. The fact that she was married to him, and –thus- an Imperial Princess now, with a stake in Imperial matters aside. It meant that Hec-Tor viewed her as an outsider. Not a friend. Obviously, she didn’t expect him to trust her implicitly immediately. They knew each other for literally a week before they were married and since being married, had spent probably a grand total of six hours together –accumulatively. But there was a difference between ‘not trusting someone with the name of your childhood pet’, and ‘not trusting someone with information that could directly affect them too’. Entrapta found that she did not like it. 

She flopped down onto the stateroom bed that was supposed be ‘theirs’. Arms and legs crossed. Her face screwed up in a juvenile pout. Entrapta pondered the possible meanings of ‘security issue’. If it was the former, she could forgive him. He didn’t know her, not really, and so wouldn’t know how capable she actually was. If it was the latter, then someone needed to sit him down and set him straight on how ‘partnerships’ were supposed to work. 

At least she wasn’t confined to the room. 

Entrapta could still come and go as she pleased, anywhere on Monstron. 

Imp, however, was confined to quarters until Hec-Tor himself, and Hec-Tor only came to retrieve him. 

Needless to say, the small child was restless. He was used to having a large sprawling palace with multiple levels and outdoor areas to bound around in. Being trapped on Monstron and having to be under constant supervision during their journey was different enough for him, but now having to be locked in the royal suits while Dad did… whatever Dad was doing down on the planet was worse! 

Imp flew laps around the whole suit. From his own quarters, through the refresher that connected them to Hec-Tor’s suits, then back again. The door to the refresher sliding open and closed again with every pass. He squawked at Entrapta with every third lap, conveying his displeasure in the only way he knew she would understand since she didn’t yet know how to read his Signing. 

“Yeah, I’m not exactly happy with him either.” She sulked. 

Not even pausing in his flapping, Imp made a string of very rude hand sign that said exactly what he thought about his father, and this trip, and leaving Horde World in the first place. But Entrapta couldn’t understand it. 

“Even if he didn’t want me going down there, he could at least say why.” She said, unsure if she and Imp were even having the same conversation. “We’re supposed to be partners, after all.”

For the first time in what might have been more than an hour, Imp paused in his restless circling. 

He darted back into his own quarters. Not as part of his pacing, but in a straight line, with a purpose. Imp came back into Hec-Tor’s room holding a stack of data cards. He flapped in front of Entrapta, holding the stack out for her. 

She stared at them confused for a moment. Unsure as to why this child was presenting her with the files. 

Imp croaked out an impatient noise. Sometimes, it was so frustrating not being able to speak out loud and communicate in the way that the vast majority of beings in the Empire communicated. He grabbed a fist full of Entrapta’s hair and wrapped it around the cards, indicating that he wanted her to take them from him. When she did, Imp then signed that if she was his Dad’s partner, maybe she could look at these for him. Seeing as how he Dad seemed incapable of looking at them himself. 

Entrapta did not understand what he was trying to communicate. 

Frustrated, Imp grabbed a datapad off the bedside table, Imp typed out (and misspelled) the word partner (‘patnr’).

It took Entrapta a couple of moments to decipher the sequence of letters the child had typed out. But when she did, she nodded. “Yes, Hec-Tor and I are supposed to be partners.”

Already frustrated with his father locking him in the suits, Imp’s patience was low and he tapped the data cards she now held in her hair. Then typed onto the data pad again. ‘Dad work.’

“Oh.” She said, thinking she understood now. Because she said they were partners now that they were married, Imp wanted her to do his Dad’s work while he was down on the planet. “Well, we are partners. But I still think I should ask him if he would feel comfortable with me helping him with his Imperial work. Horde Prime might not approve and I wouldn’t wanna get your Dad in trouble with the Emperor.”

She placed the stack of datacards down on the bedside table. 

Imp threw his arms up in frustration. Sometimes it was impossible to communicate with grown-ups. 

“I’ve got an idea!” Entrapta stood on her hair. “Why don’t I go get Scorpia and Catra and they bring us a couple of board games and we all keep you company until Hec-Tor comes back!” She smiled proudly. “He said you couldn’t leave. He didn’t say anything about not having friends over to play.”

…

Hec-Tor was exhausted when he finally beamed back aboard Monstron. 

Eyes closed, massaging the sides of his head. He had the worst headache. All he wanted to do was take something for it, get back to his own quarters, turn all the lights off, and put his head down. 

Instead, when he got back to his suit of rooms, he found Entrapta and Imp sitting on the floor with the ladies of Entrapta’s entourage, Princess Scorpia, and Lady Catra. They appeared to be playing some kind of game with a map of the universe printed on the board, all the different solar systems in different colors, and each player appeared to hold control of sections of the universe with colored game pieces. 

They all looked up when he entered. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Hec-Tor demanded. 

Entrapta pushed herself up on her hair. “Oh, Imp was getting restless, so I thought it would be fun if we all kept him entertained until you got back.”

He assumed as much as soon as he walked in. Why else would three adults be playing board games with a toddler. But Hec-Tor had two objections to this. 

“Why are you playing this in my room instead of his?” and “Do not give my son anything with pieces as small as these!”

He crossed the space and picked Imp up, scooping the child into his arms and hugging him tighter than was necessary. 

“He didn’t try to swallow anything.” Entrapta assured him. 

Picking up on the Prince’s frustration and lack of patience better than the others seemed to, Catra began packing up the pieces and game board. 

Hec-Tor fixed the ladies with a harsh glare. He had too much to worry about as it was. He did not need members of his new wife’s entourage invading his suit to play childish games. 

Catra finished packing up the game board and pieces before the Prince had the chance to order them to ‘get out!’. She grabbed Scorpia by the arm and began pulling the other woman out of the room. “We’re sorry to have disturbed you, Prince Hec-Tor.”

Entrapta and Hec-Tor were left staring at each other. 

There was the beat of a pause. 

Entrapta fiddled with her hair, unsure of what she was supposed to do. “I, uh, I guess I should go too…” She muttered. Started to move past Hec-Tor to the door, then paused. She turned back, reaching across the space with her hair and tapped the stack of datacards on the bedside table. “Imp gave these to me. I think he wanted me to help you with your work. But I don’t know if Horde Prime would get mad if I did, so I didn’t look at them.”

She left. 

Imp squawked as the door shut behind him. He wanted to leave to! He wanted to run around, and do stuff, and be active. He was absolutely stir crazy! 

“After we have left Krytis and are back in hyperspace, then you may have free reign of the ship again.” He told his son, using the app on his datapad to dim the lights and ease his headache a little. 

Hec-Tor carried Imp through the shared refresher into the adjoining room and began tucking his son in for a nap –which was the last thing Imp wanted at the moment. He had too much energy to sleep and was fussy. He kicked the blankets off himself and made every noise his malformed larynx was capable of making. This did nothing to ease his headache. 

“Stop this at once!” Hec-Tor commanded. “You may either lay down and try to sleep on your own, or else I will give you something to help you sleep!”

Imp hated taking his regular medication as it was. He was not keep on the idea of having to choke down something he was not usually required to take. The child gave a huff of frustration, made a rude gesture with his hands, then pulled the blankets over his head.

Thinking he’d won, Hec-Tor went back into his own room to rest. 

He heard Imp throw one of his toys against the closed door as he left, but Hec-Tor chose to ignore it. Reacting would only encourage more unruly behavior from the toddler. If Imp learned that such behavior was ineffective, he would give up on it.

Stripping off his armor and leaving his ports open to air out, Hec-Tor laid down in bed. But he did not go immediately to sleep. In spite of his headache, he was curious. What work of his would Imp have that he would give to Entrapta. Imp was a toddler. A literal child. He did not entrust Imperial matters to children. Imp should not have any of his work to give out. 

Reaching for his datapad, Hec-Tor lifted the first datacard on the top of the stack. Then paused. It was one of the ones he’d told Imp to pack for him. Not Imperial work. Personal business. The last surviving datacards with information on the –now abandoned- search for Keldor. Hec-Tor was glad Entrapta had the forethought not to look at them without his permission. It would be very awkward if his new spouse was reading about his search for his old spouse. 

Hec-Tor ran a thumb over the date. It was one of the more recent updates. From only a month before his engagement to Entrapta. He slipped the card into the datapad. 

It said there were no new leads. 

Hec-Tor didn’t know what he was expecting. 

He tossed the datapad back onto the bedside table, toppling the stack of cards, some of them even clattering on the floor. Hec-Tor left them there, laid back down in bed, and tried to sleep off his headache. 

…

He only woke up once. When he felt the ship lurch as the massive vessel made the jump to lightspeed. 

They were on their way to Denebria and the Nordor moon next.


	11. View From Keldor's Perspective

Skeletor had a mental checklist of things to do when he got back to Snake Mountain. 

The ore stockpiles Evil-Lyn brought back from Krytis had to be appraised for one. Then they had to find a facility capable of refining it that was also far enough off the Empire’s radar to get the job done without being molested. Not an easy thing to find when the Empire controlled most of the known universe. 

Continuing to sew discontent and unrest among Empire held worlds would be easier than Skeletor expected. Nordor and Denebria had been an experiment. Not the launch of a true rebellion. But it was an experiment that worked. The mutants of Nordor which orbited the planet Denebria managed to overthrow the occupying Imperial forces and take over the Nordor base. If they could do it there, they could do it on other worlds too. 

Skeletor still had a lot of work ahead of him. He could not take time to sit and relax at Snake Mountain. 

However, sitting and relaxing seemed to be exactly what Evil-Lyn wanted him to do. 

She greeted Skeletor with a mug of hot cocoa and a blanket. She passed him the mug of hot cocoa and tried to drape the blanket over his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

If he still had the face to do it, Skeletor would have raised an eyebrow at her. Instead, he just paused and stared. Shrugging the blanket off his shoulders, he tried to keep moving. Nordor had just been an experiment. They needed to decide where to stage the next rebellion, and it had to be a higher value planet this time. They also needed to appraise and refine the ore from Krytis. There wasn’t time to curl up in a blanky and drink hot cocoa. 

“I’m motivated.” He told her. 

“I was gone by the time Monstrong arrived at Krytis. I didn’t see Hec-Tor.” She volunteered without being asked. 

“Those were my instructions.” He reminded her. “You were supposed to leave before he arrived. Why would you see him?”

“I just thought you might like to know how he’s doing.” Evil-Lyn informed him. “You were married to him for many, many years.”

“And I left him after many, many years.” Skeletor reminded her. It was a fact she seemed to forget, and forget often. “It was an arranged marriage between me and Hec-Tor. I never loved him, and when I saw an opportunity to get out of it, I left. And I do not look back. I do not love Hec-Tor, and I have never loved Hec-Tor.”

“Oh, really?” Evil-Lyn crossed the space between them. She yanked on the collar of his hood, pulled down enough to reveal the metal chain he wore around what was left of his neck. With her other hand, she lifted the chain until the ring slid out from behind the fabric. Holding it up between them. “If you never loved him, they why do you still carry his ring around wherever you go?”

Skeletor snatched the ring out of her grip and tucked it back under his hood. “I just haven’t found the proper method of disposing of it.” He said. “My reasons are my own and none of your business. I was still very young when I was made to marry Hec-Tor. He was a large part of my life. This ring is a reminder of more than just him. It’s… By the Goddess, Lyn! I was only eighteen when I married him!”

“Which is another reason why I think you should talk about it.” She continued to insist. 

“I don’t wanna talk.” He repeated. “We have far too much work to do to allow ourselves to be sidetracked by my old teenage angst. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to work.”

…

Keldor threw his makeshift rope out the window. A line made from tying his sheets together. With a cloak over his shoulders, the hood drawn up over his head, a runaway bag over his back, Keldor climbed out his bedroom window. 

He made it to the ground without incident. 

Darting from shadow to shadow, Keldor made his way around the castle to the gardens. There was one old tree close to the garden wall he could climb to get over it and out. If he could just get out before the Imperial party arrived tomorrow, then he could get away from his marriage. 

He did not make it to the tree. 

Keldor came skidding to a halt. His heels digging into the grass-grown gravel with his sudden stop. 

Sigal, his father’s concubine, his mother, stood between him and tree. Her arms crossed. An expression of stern severity on her face. “Out for a midnight stroll, Keldor?”

“I’m not getting married, Mama!” He announced. 

That severe expression not wavering, Sigal uncrossed her arms and marched up to her son. Keldor was noticeably taller than her, yet he still shrunk away as if afraid when her hand lanced out and grabbed his arm. “You are getting married, and you will get married.”

“You can’t make me!” He continued to argue, even as his mother pulled him back into the palace. “Have you seen Prince Hec-Tor? He looks like a wight! There’s, like, a giant gaping hole where his nose should be, like a skull! And those glowing eyes, like some other-world demon from Despondos! And- and those teeth! I cannot kiss something with teeth like that!”

Sigal pulled Keldor inside and shoved him against the wall. “Stop shouting!” She commanded. “You are too old to be acting this way. Your father removed you from the line of succession. You will never be ruler of Eternia. But you can be a Prince of the Empire, and that’s even better! If I could fuck your father to get my power, you can fuck a space bat for yours.”

Keldor frowned, unimpressed and unmoved by his mother’s words. “Pretty sure having to fuck a space bat is worse, Mama.”

“Not really.” Lady Sigal insisted, even though she knew next to nothing about what it was like to sleep with a space bat. “Just close your eyes, bite the pillow, and think of Eternia.”

“Great advice, Mama.” Keldor scoffed. “Real sagely. I’m totally looking forward to this marriage now.”

Grabbing him again, Sigal began dragging him back to his bedroom. “A marriage is not something to look forward to. All those romantic ideas about love, and passion, and desire, those are nothing but fiction. Real marriage isn’t about romance. Real marriage is about power. You are about to come into a lot of power thanks to this marriage.” 

They reached Keldor’s room and Sigal wrenched the door open, dragging her son inside. She paused when she saw the open window and rope made from bedsheets. Locking the door behind her, and placing a spell on it so that her son couldn’t bolt the moment she let go of him, Sigal pulled the makeshift rope back inside, then shut the window. Sealing it with another spell for good measure. Keldor was a good student when it came to magic, and he could become a powerful sorcerer. But, at the moment, Sigal was better. He would not be able to break her barrier spells before it was time to meet his intended in the morning. 

That done, she rounded back on her son, glaring up at him. “Now, do I need to stay here all night and guard you? Or will you quit acting like a petulant child and do your duty for this planet and your family?” 

Keldor said nothing. At the moment, he didn’t care much for Eternia, or his family. 

So, Sigal added, “If not for your planet or your family, then for yourself. Horde Prime currently has no heir, and they say his wife cannot bear a living child. That would make Hec-Tor his Heir Apparent for now. Play your role well, and you could be consort to the Emperor of the Known Universe.”

Keldor looked away. Avoiding eye-contact with his mother and muttering more to himself than speaking to her. “That still means I have to fuck a space bat.”

…

Sigal was still there when Keldor woke up. 

She way laying out a formal tunic and brocade vest for him to wear when he met his intended. 

“Will you come with me to the introductions?” He asked. 

Pulling a chair over to his bedside, Sigal started pulling a comb through his hair. “You’re a grown man, Keldor, you don’t need your mother holding your hand when you meet a boy.”

…

Keldor would hardly call Prince Hec-Tor Kur a ‘boy’. 

Keldor wasn’t short. He was on the taller side of average for a male Gar. He towered over his mother, and was as tall as his father. 

But where Keldor was a tree among the forest, Hec-Tor was veritable castle spire. Towering over Keldor and all the rest of the members of the Eternia party. Rail thin, and standing straight. His spine as stiff as a poll. He was so stiff, he didn’t even look real. Less like a person about to be married and more like one of those dolls Randor was always playing with. (Or, ‘action figures’ as he insisted they were called.)

The idea was actually really funny. Imagining this stoic looking space bat as one of little Randor’s little toys. His mind even played a soundrack of some of Randor’s most often used sound effects. (‘Hyah!’ ‘Kya!’ ‘Cha!’, and the ever popular, ‘Myehh!’)

Keldor couldn’t help but laugh. 

He knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to. This was a formal meeting, and he was a Prince. He was supposed to be on his absolute best court behavior. Act the part of the charming blue flower that a Prince of the Empire would want to pluck. 

And that reminder just made him laugh more. Just how serious and ridiculous this was, in equal measure. 

Keldor clapped his hand over his mouth to try and stifle the laugh. But the damage was done. Hec-Tor heard him. 

“What’s so funny?” He demanded. Sounding much less tiff than he looked. Sounding just as irritated and unhappy as Keldor felt. 

“You are.” Keldor told him, still smiling. 

Grinning now, actually. The damage was done, and he couldn’t take it back. He laughed at a Prince of the Horde Empire, to his face. But the Horde Prince wasn’t some big terrifying space monster. He was just as much of a frustrated youth as Keldor himself was. Except, while Keldor felt his frustration, experienced it as an emotion that was valid and real, Hec-Tor seemed to suppress his under years of court etiquette and discipline. 

“You’re so stiff,” explained Keldor, “like one of those windup soldier toys my brother still plays with. Can you do anything else besides posture and pose?”

Keldor watched as those glowing crimson eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Openly admitting that he found Hec-Tor’s stiff, formal, almost military posture and discipline comical. Hec-Tor blinked, sputtering non-sense. 

Horde Prime, however, was but better at getting his words together. “Is this what you teach your children, Miro? To insult their guests.”

“Keldor!” 

He flinched at the harshness of his father’s voice. But it still wasn’t enough to wipe the grin off his face. Keldor was still smiling when he dipped low into a deep apologetic bow. His hair falling over one ear to partially hide the grin. He may never like Hec-Tor, but he could enjoy teasing. Their marriage might not be romantic, but at least it would be entertaining. 

…

Spending time with Hec-Tor was not entertaining. 

Not even sort of. 

As part of their contract mandated bonding, Keldor’s mother suggested they take a nice, leisurely stroll through the gardens –heavily chaperoned, of course. 

Dylamug, was a robotic diplomat and part of the Imperial party that accompanied Prince Hec-Tor and Horde Prime to Eternia. He acted as the chaperone from the Imperial side. While Keldor’s chaperone was a Gar warrior his mother had selected.

Next to him, Hec-Tor sneezed and Keldor wondered if all the pollin in the air might choke out his prosthetic armor, or irritate his breathing. Maybe Keldor would get lucky and the Imperial Prince would just drop dead and Keldor would never have to get married. 

Keldor yawned, board. There was no way that was happening. If the gardens really were a danger to Prince Hec-Tor, Horde Prime never would have let them outside in the first place. 

Not that Keldor really considered the palace gardens to be any version of ‘outside’. For Keldor ‘outside’ was outside the palace. In the city of Eternos, or the outlying country beyond. He had never been the type of Prince to stay inside a castle’s walls pampered and protected. He was a warrior, as all members of the House of Grayskull were trained to be. He was a sorcerer, and his mother taught him to be. And he was a Gar, and had explored the ancient and semi-sacred island of Anwat Gar. He was not used to being cooped up in his own home and chaperoned like some toddler than needed constant supervision. 

He glanced down the path and noted the tree he had planned to use to escape a few nights ago when he tried to run. The tree was close to the garden wall, and several of its branches extended out over it. That portion of the wall extended down into a narrow alley behind one of Eternos’ less wealthy neighborhoods. It really was one of the perfect escapes. 

If Keldor could just get to it…

Lancing out without warning, Keldor grabbed Hec-Tor and pulled him off the path and to the tree. 

“Wha-!?” Hec-Tor began an objection, but Keldor smacked a hand over his mouth quickly, before the other man could voice another syllable. 

“Shh!” Keldor hissed at him, hair falling over his ears as he pinned Hec-Tor to the tree. “Follow me.”

Keldor began climbing up the vine-covered trunk. Then, when he noticed that Hec-Tor was not immedietly following after him, he leaned down and pulled him up. 

“What are we doing up here?” Demanded the Imperial Prince. 

“Don’t you wanna get outta here?” Keldor asked.

For a hot second, it looked like Prince Hec-Tor was seriously considering. Getting out of the palace and away from their keepers. Keldor might have been born a Prince, but he never did take well to being a ‘kept man’. He enjoyed his freedoms too much. With how still Hec-Tor had been this whole visit thus far, he didn’t think the other man much cared for freedoms outside the walls he was kept in. If he really was considering escaping with him, then Keldor decided he might actually have some respect for this stiff action figure of a Prince Imperial. 

Then Hec-Tor shook his head. “What we want is immaterial in this matter.”

Keldors burgeoning respect for him deflated. Never mind. He really was just a still and well trained action figure. Cast in the same mold as every Horde Prime before him. No hidden depth or articulation. Exactly what it said on the box. 

“Wow. They’re got you really well trained.”

“I beg your par-!”

Keldor shoved him hard and Hec-Tor went tumbling over the wall, making a sound that Keldor was not expecting could come from his throat. Apparently, space bats made interesting sounds when they were startled, or scared, or stressed. It was halfway between a squawk of surprise, and a shriek of horror, accented by some chittering chirps of panic. 

Sighing to himself, Keldor grabbed a fist full of vines and slid down after him. “First time ditching your keepers?”

“What have you done!?” Hec-Tor demanded. 

“I told you. We’re getting out.” Keldor scoffed at him. “Don’t tell me you were actually having fun on our ‘quiet and leisurely stroll through the gardens’.” He slid down the vines a fraction of a meter, expecting Hec-Tor to follow him. “C’mon. I’ll show you the real Eternia!”

Hec-Tor did not follow him immediately. In fact, for a brief moment, it looked like the Imperial Prince was trying to climb back up. But then he changed his mind and slid down to join Keldor in the alley. He watched Hec-Tor land tentatively and lean against the palace wall, breathing hard. Sliding down the vines couldn’t have been that strenuous. 

“You having a panic attack or something?” He asked. 

Hec-Tor fixed him with a glowing eyed glare. Or, rather, he tried to fix Keldor with a glowing eyed glare. But to spite his sharp pointed ears, angular cheek bones, skeletal nose, and glowing eyes, it was hard for Keldor to be very scared of a creature that looked like it could be knocked over with a feather. 

Keldor grabbed his hand again. “C’mon. There’s a bar I like down this way.”

By ‘a bar he liked’ Keldor meant ‘a bar that was close enough to the palace that he could go there, have a drink, and get back before his own keepers noticed he was missing. It was not particularly nice. It was not particularly clean. The drinks weren’t even particularly good. But they were frothy and –so long as he paid her enough- the bartender pretended not to know that he was Prince Keldor, eldest son of King Miro, and a soon-to-be Prince of the Horde Empire. 

After haggling a little over bribes, Keldor walked away from the bar with a drink for himself and one for Hec-Tor. Maybe putting a couple of drinks in him would get the other man to loosen up a little. Hec-Tor was much too stiff. At least, he hoped it would get him to loosen up when he pressed the tankard into his hands. 

“I cannot drink this.” Was the first thing Hec-Tor said since they entered the bar.

“Sure you can!” Keldor insisted, his frustration and dislike of the space bat growing even more. It wasn’t bad enough that he was just outright terrifying to look at, but to be a kill-joy and wet blanket on top of it. Now that was just being cruel. Someone who looked as monstrous as him should at least know how to have fun! “Just put it in your mouth and swallow.”

“I mean it will make me very ill.” Hec-Tor informed him. 

Yeah, hangovers weren’t fun. Keldor had to admit that was true. Had had woken up ‘very sick’ plenty of times to know. “Yeah…” He agreed reluctantly. “But you’ll have a lot of fun first.”

Hec-Tor pushed the tankard away from himself, making it clear that he had no intension of drinking with Keldor. “I would like to go back to the castle now.”

Of course he would. Goddess forbid he have a single moment of independence from his stiff and rigid upbringing. Keldor chugged his drink quickly, surveying Hec-Tor over the rim of the tankard. When it was almost completely empty, he lowered the tankard and let out a very un-princely burp. “Aw, but we only just got here. I haven’t even gotten into a bar fight yet.”

Hec-Tor arched an eyebrow at him and frowned. He clearly had opinions about a Prince sneaking out of the palace to drink at dirty dive bars in the slums, and get into bar fights with random strangers. His thin white lips parted, probably to begin some holier-than-thou lecture on appropriate conduct for a member of a royal family. 

But Hec-Tor was cut off before he got the chance. 

At that exact moment, a large Qadian came up to their table. A dark scowl on his feline face, arms crossed over his chest with disproval. “You, Gar,” he hissed, “you’re at my table.”

“Never mind.” Keldor grinned across the table at his intended. “I’m right on schedule.”

He turned around in his seat to face the Qadian. Whenever he wanted to get into a fight, I could always trust the streets of Eternos to provide him with at least one low-life that hate Gar on sight. 

He smiled up at the Qadian and blinked his eyes in mock innocents and surprise. “I am? I’m so sorry, I had no idea this was your table, Mr. Torg Sisters Wholesale Furniture Warehouse! That is your name, I assume, as it’s the only name written on it.”

The Qadian’s whiskers twitched asymmetrically. “You can’t sit here, Gar.”

“I can’t?” He gasped, as if truly and honestly shocked. He looked down at his chair. “By the Goddess! It must be a miracle. Look! I’m sitting! Here!”

Losing patience quickly, the Qadian grabbed Keldor by one of the belts crossed over his chest. “Listen, you Blue Bastard, we don’t want your kind here!”

Keldor bared his teeth at the ‘blue bastard’ comment. He began gathering power in his hands, beginning to silently cast a spell. He was a fighter like all members of his father’s house were. But his true gift was the magic and aptitude for sorcery he inherited from his mother. Often times, people didn’t even realize he was casting his magic until he’d already used it on them. 

But Keldor did not get the chance to use it. 

Because Hec-Tor did something entirely unexpected. 

“Let him go!” Hec-Tor commanded, putting all the regal command and pompous attitude he had into his voice. 

Unfortunately, the Qadian was not impressed. He looked Hec-Tor up and down, noting that he was tall, but much too skinny to be any kind of real physical threat. “And what are you supposed to be?”

Not many people knew what a space bat was, even if this Qadian did, Hec-Tor and the members of the Imperial family did not look very much like the other members of their race. They were too inbred, the gens too cut off from the rest of the pool. 

Keldor was glad nobody recognized Hec-Tor, because he did not need anyone recognizing him as Prince Keldor. 

Then Hec-Tor had to open his stupid, pointy toothed mouth of his. “I am-“

“This is my fiancé.” Keldor cut him off before the idiot could blow their cover and spoil all of his fun. “Uh… Hordak!” He blurted out the first vaugly space bat sounding name he could think of. “Hordak, sweetie, say ‘hi’ to the nice kitty.”

Hec-Tor frowned in confusion, not seeming to understand what was going on here or what Keldor was trying to do. 

“Are you making fun of me!?” The Qadian appreciated beign called ‘kitty’ about as much as Keldor appreciated being called ‘blue bastard’. For every race or cultural group on Eternia, there was at least one (usually more than one) derogatory term or outright slur for them, and everybody hated it. But nobody did anything about it. 

“I’m usually making fun of everyone.” Keldor smirked. He had opinions on everything and had grown used to being untouchable. 

With a hiss and a snarl, the Qadian threw Keldor at the table. 

Moving quickly, Keldor reached a hand out to grab the edge of the table and catch himself. Then made a quick duck and weave move to avoid a fast but clumsy punch from the Qadian. 

Then the table up and vanished. 

Keldor looked behind him to see that Hec-Tor had unexpectedly joined the fight. The space bat, in an unexpected feat of strength, picked up the whole table, lifting it over his head. He threw the whole table, legs and all, over Keldor’s head. Aiming for the Qadian. …and for the first time since meeting Prince Hec-Tor, Keldor felt the slightest stirrings of arousal. He might look like a waif-like nightmare wight, but was willing for fight for Keldor, and that was very sexy of him. 

The projectile didn’t connect, though. The Qadian had cat-like reflexes and jumped out of the way. 

And Hec-Tor, whom had looked sickly from the moment Keldor first laid eyes on him, immediately passed out. …and that was decidedly less sexy of him. 

Keldor would be facing his bar fight opponent by himself, it seemed. He turned back to the Qadian, hands at his sides, but not in surrender. He was silently casting spells, gathering his power in his palms. 

Behind the bar, the bartender was reaching for her personal comm. Since Prince Keldor became a semi-regular patron of her bar, she added Man-at-Arms and Lady Sigal to her speed dial. 

The Qadian stepped around the broken table that laid on the floor by him, circling Keldor. 

Keldor stepped over his fiancé’s unconscious body, circling the Qadian right back. 

With a hiss as the only warning before he moved, the Qadian jumped into the air, back arched and claws extended, pouncing on Keldor.

But Keldor was ready. He knew how to handle cats. He lifted his left hand, and the shield spell he had been casting. There was their briefest flash of light when the Qadian pounced on an invisible wall of power above Keldor’s head, and then bounced off. From his right hand, he shot a spell that drew moisture from the air to conjure water, and Qadians hated to get wet. 

Within moments, the Qadian was stumbling off balance on the other side of the room and soaking wet. All his fur puffed up in abject horror. 

“Fucking Gar!” Snarled the cat. 

Keldor only smirked back. “Meow, bitch.”

The Qadian looked like he was about to jump at Keldor again. But he didn’t get to.

Keldor didn’t get to throw any more spells either. 

Both of them found themselves inexplicably frozen in place as the door to the bar burst open, and a hooded figure stepped in, one blue arm raised. The fingers splayed, and glowing with the power of a spell of her own. 

Raising their other arm, the figure reached up to lower their hood. 

“Mama…” Keldor whined at his mother. It was about all he could do since her spell kept him frozen in place. 

Lady Sigal made another motion with her hand and Keldor’s mouth was sealed shut so that he could not speak. She knelt down next to Prince Hec-Tor to make sure he was just sleeping and otherwise unharmed. When she was satisfied that the visiting Horde Prince was indeed unharmed and Eternia was not about to suffer the wrath of the full Empire, she turned to the Qadian. 

Waving her hand, she released the feline from her immobility spell. 

“You- you’re Lady Sigal.” He gaped at her. His eyes flicked to the one he’d just been fighting with. The one who had just called Lady Sigal –the King’s concubine- ‘Mama’. “He’s Prince Keldor?”

“Leave.” Sigal commanded. She did not raise her voice, or growl, or even place any inflection on the word at all. It was a flat, even command. Almost polite. The controlled command of formal court training. 

The Qadian didn’t just leave, he ran. Eternia had stories about the Gar sorceress that had seduced the King and was mother to his eldest Prince. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of Lady Sigal. 

She rounded on her son. Glaring at Keldor with a level of severity that made her expression the night he tried to run away look downright gentle in comparison. Still unable to speak, Keldor swallowed a lump of nerves with apprehension. He knew, better than most, that the stories were not all that absurdly embellished. His mother was a force to be reckoned with. 

Peering over her son’s shoulder, Sigal addressed the bartender instead. “Prince Keldor was never here.” She announced. “Neither was his companion, and neither was I.”

Stiffly, the bartender nodded her understanding. That was to be the official story. “O-of course, my lady.”

Finally, Sigal released Keldor from her immobility spell. 

“Mama, I-“

“Pick him up.” Sigal cut her son off before he could ramble out an excuse. She pointed to Prince Hec-Tor’s unconscious body just to make sure there was no room for interpretation. Keldor learned to exploit ambiguity in wording from her. “You will take him back to the very same spot in gardens you disappeared from, and if asked, you will say you were just so overcome with affection that you needed to be alone with your intended.”

“But, Mama, I-“

“Do not make me repeat myself, Keldor.” She said in that same flat and even toneless voice of command. The words rolling with silent power and hidden temper. 

Keldor lowered his eyes. He knew when he could argue a point with his mother and when he had to do as he was told. “Yes, Mama.”

Kneeling down, Keldor lifted Hec-Tor by the arms and slung the larger man over his back. Lifting with his legs, muscles straining because while the space bat was thin, he wasn’t exactly a feather. Keldor carried Hec-Tor like a sack over his shoulders. 

He cast one more pleading look at his mother, silently begging her to save him from this marriage. He was met with only another severe glare. He would get no rescue from her. Hanging his head in defeat, Keldor carried his unconscious finace out of the bar and back to the alley that bordered the palace’s garden wall. 

…

The wedding night was not exactly as terrible as Keldor was imagining it would be. 

After the reception, when it was time to- -consummate, Lady Sigal pulled Keldor to the side and offered him something to make the evening’s labors more tolerable. Pressing a tiny plastic baggie full of a finely ground powder into his hand. 

“To take the edge off.” She muttered. 

He took it without thinking to ask his mother any follow-up questions. 

As the servants were helping him disrobe from his wedding clothes and helping him into an easy to take off robe, Keldor opened the plastic baggie and sniffed the powder experimentally. It was an herbal mixture. Keldor recognized some of them from his own studies. Herbs to ease tension and relax the nerves. But there were others that he didn’t recognize. (Later, Keldor would learn that it was a mixture of natural aphrodisiacs, but he did not know it at the moment.)

Trusting his mother’s herbology and potions to get him through the beilager, Keldor mixed the powder in a glass of water and shot it in two gulps. He then washed it down with a second glass of water so that his mouth wouldn’t taste like medicinal herbs if he had to kiss Hec-Tor. 

Oh, Goddess! He would have to kiss Hec-Tor!

Keldor bit the nail of his thumb, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs and the bottom drop out of his stomach. He pictured Hec-Tor’s glowing red eyes, solid sclera with no iris or pupil. Of that gaping arrow-shaped hole where a nose would be on an Eternian. And those teeth! Elongated canines, and sharp pointy all the others, all of them an unsettling shade of red almost the same as the glow of his eyes. Keldor did not want to kiss that mouth with those unnatural red teeth. 

He wiped a finger around inside the little plastic baggy, trying to scoop out every last particle of the herbal powder. Then licked it off his finger. He was going to need all the help he could get to make it through the night. 

He tried to remember that single moment of attraction he felt when Hec-Tor tried to back him up in their bar fight. But it had been fleeting, and the memory of that small feeling was easily overshadowed by the nerves he felt over what was about to happen. There was nothing arousing about what was about to happen. 

Taking a deep breath, Keldor pulled the sash of his robe tighter around himself and stepped into the bedroom that had been prepared for them. 

Luckily, Hec-Tor looked just as nervous as Keldor felt. Standing on the opposite side of the bed. Wearing an almost identical robe. Looking down, and avoiding making eye-contact with anyone else in the room. 

Keldor took a deep breath to steady his own nerves. Then walked around the bed to him. 

Hec-Tor also took a breath. “I am… uncomfortable.” He admitted. 

“Me too.” Keldor was also avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. Especially his fiancé’s -husband’s, they were husbands now- especially his husband’s eyes. Keldor did not think he could do this if he had to look at that nightmare face of his. 

Keldor untied the knot of Hec-Tor’s robe. He reached up to slide the fabric off the other man’s shoulders and noted that he was trembling under Keldor’s hands. 

Still not looking up at his face, Keldor examined Hec-Tor’s body. Noting the odd patterns and color changes in his skin. The gray-blue and white intertwining more like veins rather than stripes, or spots, or other natural color patterns on other creatures. Keldor found himself wondering if the patterns were natural to the space-bat species, or if they were one of the many physical deformities that plagued the Kur dynasty. Horde Prime had two extra eyes on his right side, and Hec-Tor had… vitiligo? That wasn’t a physical deformity. Lots of other people had that. It was normal. 

He was even thinner with his armor and clothing off. Without the fabric and metal plating adding extra bulk to his form. There was even matter missing from his arms. An oval shaped hole on each arm large enough for Keldor to see through, right between where his ulna and radius would be. 

Then he remembered that he was not supposed to be the only person participating in this. Keldor chanced a glance up at Hec-Tor’s face. Quickly decided he was not comfortable enough with that nightmare face yet, and looked back down. His hair falling over his ears again. “You can touch me too, ya know.” 

Nervously, Hec-Tor glanced to the side, to their observers. For the most part, they seemed to not be all that interested in what they were doing. For the lawyer, this was just another boring day at the office to her. She just wanted them to get it over with so she could sign her documents and leave. The Priestess of the Goddess look politely scandalized. Beilager was not an Eternian custom, not an Eternian (or a Garish) one. She had never had to bear witness to anything like this before, and she did not appear too keen on watching two teenagers have sex. 

The only one that appeared interested in what they were doing –or what they were about to do- was Horde Prime. He wasn’t just watching them. He was leering with acute interest. Acute interest that was focused almost exclusively on Hec-Tor. For one heartbeat of a moment, Keldor felt bad for the other man. Hec-Tor might look like a monster from a children’s tale, but he was just as humiliated and scared as Keldor was. 

Hands sliding down the arms, carful not to curve his fingers into the gap between ulna and radius, Keldor took Hec-Tor’s hands in his. “Let’s lay down.”

They both crawled onto the mattress, and Keldor reached for the bottle of lubricant. 

“We’ll need-! That. We will need that.” Hec-Tor announced, louder than he needed to. 

Setting the now open bottle back down, Keldor leaned over his husband. Eyes focusing on one white and gray shoulder when he said, “We also need to relax.”

They had both been avoiding looking down the other’s body. But neither of them needed to actually see the other to know that they were not particularly aroused. Very little was arousing about this situation.

Keldor ran his tongue around inside his mouth, tasting to make sure none of the herb mixture his mother gave him could be tasted. The he closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at Hec-Tor’s face, then leaned over and kissed him. Chastely at first, just the slightest brushing of lips against lips. A closed mouth kiss. Like they did during the wedding ceremony. 

He was a little relieved when Hec-Tor did not kiss back. 

But they had to do this, so to just get it done, Keldor tried again. Still keeping his eyes closed and imagining he was with a much more desirable partner. An open mouthed kiss this time, lips parted. Not demanding at all. 

Keeping his mental image of a more ideal partner in his mind, eyes still closed, Keldor started trailing kisses along his jawline, and down the throat. When his lips felt cold metal, he paused, opening his eyes to blink at the ports where Hec-Tor plugged his armor into his body. After a pause, he decided it was best to just avoid those parts of his husband’s body all together. He didn’t understand how they functioned in partnership with Hec-Tor’s prosthetic armor and he did not want to risk messing anything up. 

As he continued to travel down his partner’s body, leaving a trail of kisses to mark his path, Keldor felt himself start to relax. The herbal mixture of tension relaxers, and aphrodisiacs finally kicking in. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this! 

Except that Hec-Tor remained tense beneath him. 

Opening his eyes, Keldor looked to the side, noted that Horde Prime was standing closer to the bed than he felt was appropriate. Not only that, but staring at Hec-Tor with wrapped attention, on hand moving in his pocket. 

Reaching his hands up, Keldor framed Hec-Tor’s face. Turning his head to look at him, and forcing his own eyes to look up and meet the other man’s gaze. He tried very hard not to blink at that all red glow. He moved his fingers to make sure he was blocking Prime from view. 

“Close your eyes.” Keldor said. “Pretend they’re not there. There’s no one here but us.”

Hec-Tor did close his eyes, and Keldor tried kissing him again. This time, he did kiss back. But hesitantly. Mouth still not opening all the way, still no tongue. But at least participating. And Keldor found that it actually put him more at ease. 

Keeping his own eyes closed, calling up the fantasy of his ideal partner again, Keldor resumed trailing kisses down his partner’s body. Every caress of his lips against skin heating his blood in a way he didn’t think he could feel for Hec-Tor, and knowing that it was the result of whatever drug his mother gave him. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” He whispered, voice sounding heavy even to his own ears. 

Keldor paused when he got the juncture between Hec-Tor’s thighs. Eyes opening to look at the organ that was quickly beginning to swell with interest. He took a breath. It wasn’t like he never sucked cock before. Kedor’s tongue flicked out to tease the tip. The taste wasn’t all that bad. Better than some of his past boyfriends, actually. 

Hec-Tor gasped at the sensation and tried to sit up. 

But Keldor shoved him back down. He didn’t wanna have to look at him. “Just relax and enjoy, your Imperial Highness.” 

Keldor closed his hand around Hec-Tor’s organ and began stroking gently. “That’s better.” 

He could focus on the dick, and not think about the person it was attached to. Just the dick. And it wasn’t a half-bad dick either. Nice and thick. Long, but not too long. Without a foreskin, but- Keldor paused, feeling the texture change as Hec-Tor grew more aroused and spines began to protrude from the shaft. 

Fuck! He forgot. 

Spines. 

On his dick. 

Oh. Hell. No. 

There was no way Keldor was going to let that penetrate him. He thought Hec-Tor’s stupid space bat face was a thing of nightmares. That was before he discovered his nightmarish spiny cock! 

The dossier he was given on his intended did mention something about space bat anatomy, so he did have some idea of what to expect. Keldor just wasn’t expecting them to feel quite so… solid. Almost the consistency of wet fingernails. Softer and more pliant than actual fingernails, but still harder and sharper than something a person would want inside them –unless they were into that, which some people were. Keldor was not. 

He tucked a lock of hair behind one pointed ear. “I had heard…”

“Heard about what?” Hec-Tor tried to sit up to see his husband. 

Keldor flashed him an almost self-deprecating smile. His mother’s advice was to close his eyes, bite the pillow, and think of Eternia. But Keldor decided very quickly that there was no way he was going to bottom for a spiked dick. No amount of aphrodisiac in the world could make him horney enough to want a rod of spikes fucking him in the ass. 

He gave the shaft a few more strokes, feeling the spines scrape against his palm. Yeah. No. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not quite ready to have something like this inside me.”

Hec-Tor glanced to the side again, looking to his brother. Horde Prime was probably expecting his brother to top, for the Empire to assert its dominance over Eternia by Hec-Tor asserting his dominance over Keldor. But like fuck was Keldor gonna go bottom for spiky space bat cock! Fuck Horde Prime, and fuck whatever expectations he had for their marriage. Their marriage shouldn’t be any of his fucking business! 

Keldor grabbed Hec-Tor’s face again and forced the other man to look away from their observers. “They’re not here. It’s just you and me.”

He leaned down and placed another kiss to Hec-Tor’s lips. This time when Hec-Tor kissed back, it was not quite so chase. Lips parting to invite Keldor’s tongue inside. Keldor didn’t know if it was the aphrodisiac or not, but with his eyes closed so that he didn’t have to look at him, Hec-Tor was actually not a bad kisser. He could enjoy himself. 

Reaching for the bottle of lube, Keldor slicked up his fingers. 

Hec-Tor flinched slightly and let out a small gasp when the cold lube slid against the inside of his thighs and Keldor looked up to make sure he wasn’t hurting his partner. Mouth slightly open, Keldor could just see the points of two crimson red fangs, and he looked back down at what he was doing. He did not want to look at Hec-Tor’s face while he was doing this.

“Lift up a bit for me?” He asked. 

Hec-Tor hesitated. “Should I- should I not turn over?”

Again, Keldor looked up at his face, to gauged where his partner was with all of this. There was more than just sex going here. Being observed by Horde Prime, their wedding night was as much a political power play as it was two people trying to fuck. Keldor need to make sure he was not giving Prime the impression of overpowering or asserting dominance over his brother. As the Empire was the nation in command over Eternia, Prince Hec-Tor needed to appear to be the one in command over Keldor. 

As much as he did not want to look at that nightmare face of his, Keldor needed to Hec-Tor’s expressions to know how much was too much. 

Keldor schooled his own expression into something he hoped resembled ‘timid affection’. They had known each other for a week, how much affection did anybody expect really? Then he lied through his teeth. “I wanna see your face.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Hec-Tor lifted his knees, offering Keldor easier access. 

He slipped a finger inside. Not very deep, just to the knuckle. Wiggling it around, trying to loosen Hec-Tor up. He was so nervous and tense, it was making him so tight! Not, like, the sexy kind of tight. The vice-like, pinching your dick off, un-sexy kind of tight. 

“You need to relax.” Keldor told him, eyes looking down and away from his face again. Speaking more to his abdomen. “Otherwise, we could use all the lube in the Empire and it’d still be uncomfortable.”

Keldor squeezed more lube into his hand and tried again. 

This time, when pressed his finger inside, it slipped in much more easily. “That’s better.”

He slipped in a second finger. Also only to the knuckle at first. Not wanting to tear anything. Wiggling them both around, scissoring them to loosen him up. When he was able to fit three of his fingers inside, Keldor decided Hec-Tor was ready enough. And he was anxious to get this over with. 

Reaching for the bottle of lube again, he slathered it over himself messily. He grabbed Hec-Tor’s ass and held the other man over his lap, and thrust up into him. Forcing himself inside. Maybe a bit rougher than he should have. But the aphrodisiac he took before spurred him on and he found he didn’t care quite as much as he should. 

Now Hec-Tor was the nice kind of tight. Not to too tight that it pinches your dick of tight, that Keldor was afraid of. The firm, but elastic kind of tight that hugged and squeezed his cock so deliciously. The lube letting them slide together without friction. Just tight sensitive skin around hard sensitive skin. Keldor sighed with appreciation. Closing his eyes to block out the image of the space bat and just enjoy the base and visceral pleasure of penetrating another living being. 

Hec-Tor whimpered as Keldor pressed himself deeper, and he had to pause again. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Keldor had to ask. He opened his eyes and forced himself to look Hec-Tor in the face. Trying to gauge if he was hurting the other man or not. 

“No.” Hec-Tor braced his arms on the mattress for leverage and pressed his pelvis down on Keldor’s lap, forcing his length in deeper. Both men groaned in appreciation at the sensation. “Don’t stop.”

At the side of the bed, they both heard Prime’s breath hitch. 

Keldor reached out with his hands to catch Hec-Tor’s face before he could look all the way over and see what, exactly, Prime was doing while watching them. 

“Don’t focus on them.” He commanded, punctuating the order with another rough thrust of his cock. Making sure he hit nice and deep. So deep, that the crimson glow of Hec-Tor’s eyes flickered ever so slightly at the sensation. “Focus on me. Focus on what I’m doing to you.”

“I like what you’re doing to me.” Hec-Tor moaned between thrusts. 

Smirking slightly, Keldor turned his head to look at Prime. Meeting the Emperor’s eyes and holding his gaze as he fucked his brother. 

Prime’s lower lip curled in a sneer of displeasure. But he did not say anything, and Keldor noted that his hand was still inside his pocket, moving to an even and steady rhythm of its own. 

Keldor pulled Hec-Tor up, having him straddle and sit on his lap. Hec-Tor wrapped his arms around Keldor’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. Keldor maintained eye-contact with Horde Prime as he kissed Hec-Tor. He made it as wet and messy as he could. Open mouth, tongue slithering out, and between Hec-Tor’s parted lips. He was still mindful of those terrifying crimson fangs of his. But between the aphrodisiac and now taunting Horde Prime, it was much more bearable. 

When their lips parted again and they paused for breath, a string of saliva dripped between them. 

“Harder.” Hec-Tor begged, that crimson glow of his eyes flickering again. 

Keldor pushed Hec-Tor back down onto the pillows and lifted one steely blue-gray leg over his shoulder for better access. He cast one more taunting glance over at Horde Prime, before closing his eyes and pounding into Hec-Tor with almost reckless abandon. Grinding hard and going deep. Hitting that spot just behind the prostate that made Hec-Tor make the most lewd and obscene squeals and moans. 

“Keldor…” Hec-Tor muttered, voice almost pleading. Like he was trying to ask for more but forgot how. Like his brain was already scrambled by sex and he couldn’t think or speak but still wanted more. 

Keldor wrapped his hand around Hec-Tor’s thorny cock, to try and push his partner over the edge. But only stroking in one direction so as not to scrape his palm on the nightmare spines that covered it. 

Hec-Tor was panting so hard when he tried to speak again. Like every word was a labor all its own. “Stroke- ngh –stroke it both ways.”

“It’s okay to pet in the wrong direction?” Keldor asked, more concerned for himself than any consideration for his partner’s comfort. He didn’t much like the idea of being scratched up by what felt basically like finger nails covering a cock. 

“There- -is no wrong direction.” Hec-Tor pleaded, panting hard. “Just- Fuck! Keldor, I’m so close!”

He was so close. This could all be over soon. Keldor just had to finish him off. He could do that. Keldor obliged. The wrong direction of the spines scraping his palm, irritating the skin into a darker –more indigo- blue. 

Hec-Tor moaned with appreciation. The attention to his cock and the motions inside him finally giving him the extra push he needed. Hec-Tor fell over the edge as his orgasm ripped through his body. Cumming ropes of thick cum over Keldor’s hand and his own belly.

And then, the crimson glow of his eyes flickered one more time, a last warning before Hec-Tor passed out completely. The force of his orgasm rendering him unconscious. 

Keldor was left on the bed, holding his limp body, flopped under him liked a boneless fish. He looked up at their observers, confused and at a bit of a loss. 

The Imperial lawyer looked just as board and disinterested as she had all night. She made a note on her data pad and then pressed her thumb to the document to sign it into legal record. This was just another boring day at the office for her. 

The Eternian Priestess of the Goddess looked absolutely scandalized. Face completely red, one hand up to try and hide her embarrassment, the other clutching at the sign of the Goddess that hung around her neck. Observing a marriage consummation was a foreign concept to her and she was not having an easy time adjusting. 

Horde Prime, however, looked equal parts frustrated and yet oddly satisfied. Keldor watched him withdraw his hand from his pocket and wipe it off on the underlining of his robes. 

Keldor held his gaze for another moment longer. He knew what he had been doing, even if Hec-Tor and their other observers did not. Then, slowly, deliberately, Keldor shifted his gaze to the Imperial lawyer. “Is that all? Or do you need to watch me cum too?”

He was still stiff inside his partner and Keldor got the feeling that it would not be going down any time soon. Not until whatever combination of herbs he took before they started was finally out of his system. Next time, when his mother offered him drugs, he was going to ask what it was before just taking it without question. 

“This is sufficient.” The lawyer assured him, tucking her datapad under her arm. She was the first to turn to leave the room. 

Seeing the lawyer begin to head out, the Priestess of the Goddess practically fled. Pushing past the lawyer on her hast to escape the scene she just witnessed. 

Horde Prime lingered. 

The door shut behind the other two. 

Keldor glared at him. He withdrew from Hec-Tor and shifted the other’s body enough to pull the blankets up over them to cover both their naked bodies. 

“What? Expecting an encore?” Keldor demanded. He decided very quickly that he did not like Prime. He did not like Prime even more than he did not like this marriage. 

“I do not enjoy being taunted.” Prime announced. 

Keldor was not intimidated. He didn’t know if it was because of the drugs still in his system dampening whatever feelings he would normally have, or if his instinctual dislike of Horde Prime was just that strong. But Keldor did not shrink away from that harsh and cold acid green stare. “Would your little brother enjoy knowing you jack-off to him being fucked in the ass?”

Prime’s lip curled in another sneer, and Keldor could only imagine all the nasty and biting comebacks he was thinking in his head. But instead of voicing any, Prime just turned to leave. Only pausing in the doorway to make one promise. “You will not enjoy living on Horde World.”

Prime made sure to slam the door loudly behind him. 

Keldor pulled the sheets up some more, enough to cover Hec-Tor’s face. Even passed out asleep, the space bat Prince looked like a thing of nightmares. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” Keldor had to agree.


	12. Not So Easy, Nordor

Flogg was enjoying his new position as leader of the mutants of Nordor. 

After Skeletor told them the weaknesses in the Horde defenses, it was easy to take the lunar base from the Empire. The mysterious skull-faced sorcerer had amazing insider knowledge of the Empire, it’s military, and how long it would take the Horde to mount a retaliation. 

The Mutants were ready when Monstron, Prince Hec-Tor Kur’s flagship, came out of hyperspace in the Denabria system. 

They knew exactly which part of the station, the Empire would use at the target site for teleporting in the clone troopers, and they were waiting for them. 

Bright green light lit up the otherwise dimly lit Nordor base as Monstron’s energizer teleported in two squads of clone infantry. 

Grunt fighters, equipped with only the basics, and expendable. Most Imperial military strikes began with a first wave of infantry clones. Of course, most Imperial military strikes could be completed and settled by clones. The ‘basic equipment’ for the Imperial Horde Military was still highly advanced and usually much more sophisticated than the average dissenters’ cell. The mutants of Flogg’s own cell had mismatched battle costumes and armor. No uniformity at all. 

But most dissenter cells did not have the insider knowledge that Skeletor furnished them with. 

The battle was quick. Not really a battle at all. Not even a rout. 

It was a slaughter. 

The air filled with the acrid scent of spent weapons, and the mildly metallic tang of blood. And when the smoke cleared, there was a room full of dead clone troopers, and only a handful of mutants were wounded, none killed. 

For half a moment, every mutant on Nordor held their breath. Expecting more clones to appear at any second. To be suddenly overwhelmed and overrun. 

When the next wave did not arrive in the immediate space between heartbeats, Crita, one of Flogg’s lieutenants took charge of the situation. 

“Collect their weapons!” She shouted to be heard over everyone’s own adrenaline propelled heart beats. “When our own run out, we’ll use theirs. If you’re wounded, fall back and stay out of the way of those who can still fight.”

They didn’t know how long before Monstron beamed over more troops. Skeletor said that Prince Hec-Tor was a surprisingly good tactician for a pampered royal who’d never seen real combat in his life. They had to move fast. 

…

Aboard Monstron, both Prince Hec-Tor and Admiral Callix awaited the signal that the clone troopers had done their work and the base was theirs’s again. Quick and efficient, just like on Krytis. 

The strike did not go like how it went on Krytis. 

“Status?” Demanded Hec-Tor when nobody on the command bridge said anything. 

There was another beat of a pause. 

Then one nervous officer looked up from their screen. Their eyes were concerned, fearing that the Prince would punish them for the data they were about to report. But they were still an officer of the Imperial Horde Military, enlisted and trained in the Horde Academy on Horde World. Their voice was controlled and even when they gave their report. 

“Clone vitals are dropping, Your Highness.” They announced, reporting only the data that was being projected on their monitor and not offering explanation. “Sensors indicate all units have gone innative.”

“Dead?” Callix translated at the Prince’s side. “They were just teleported into the base. How could they all be dead?”

“I can only tell you what my terminal is telling me, Sir.” Answered the officer. 

“Open a line to the energizer room.” Callix ordered. “Confirm that they teleported our troops into the correct sector of the base!”

There was absolutely no reason why an entire squadron of clone troopers should be killed within only a few short moments of being teleported to the strike area. 

Unless some asshat in the energizer room had sent them to the wrong landing target. 

…Or the mutants of Nordor knew they were coming and set a trap. 

While Callix demanded explanations from the energizer room, Hec-Tor called of schematics of the Nordor base. Setting the images to overlap so that he could see all corridors, service shafts, and air ducts together, and ordered the computer to project the image in three dimensions so that the whole bridge could see. 

“They were supposed to appear in the auxiliary storage chambers here.” Hec-Tor pointed to the section of the moon with a talon. “No one guards their backup storage. The rebel mutants should not have even known we were their until they were already dead.”

“They were ready for us.” Callix concluded. “They knew we were coming.”

Hec-Tor shook his head, not liking the thought that was occurring to him. “Not just that we were coming, but our tactics too. They knew exactly where on their base we would teleport into and were prepared to take us out.”

He recalled the weapons they found on Krytis. That they were Imperial issue, from a shipment stolen from the Academy. It was an absurd thought. Krytis and Denebria were so far from each other and had nothing in common. They were not even of that high a strategic value, not compared to some other mining operations, or lunar bases. But Hec-Tor’s instincts were telling him that these two uprisings were connected. The prisoners of Krytis were given weapons by a third party, and the mutants of Nordor could not have the strategic knowledge they were using without being told. 

Someone was orchestrating things from behind the scenes. Someone with detailed knowledge of Imperial military equipment and tactics. 

Which meant they had to change their tactics. 

“Tell the energizer room to change their landing target.” Ordered Hec-Tor. He glared at the overlapping schematics, noting how narrow the corridors were, and how the service ducts, and ventilation systems snaked through the station. “Teleport small groups of our enlisted units here,” the part of the schematic he touched glowed to indicate where he wanted, “here, and here. Then teleport in three squads of clone units into their main hangar. They are to take out any vehicles the mutants might have, and defend our ship.”

But their ship wasn’t in the lunar hangar. Monstron was in orbit above Denebria along the same orbital path as the Nordor moon. 

“Helmsman,” continued Hec-Tor, “bring us in to dock with the base.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir!” before every officer on the bridge hurried to carry out the Prince’s alternative battle plan. Comm officers sending orders to both the on-alert enlisted troops, and the energizer room, making sure all parties were aware of the changes. Logistics officers making sure all units had what they would need from the armory. Technicians retaking measurements and altering coordinates for the energizer beams. 

While all that was going on, Hec-Tor lifted her personally communicator. “Grizzlor, Mantenna, is my son still in his room?”

The first thing he heard in reply over the channel was Imp’s frustrated and angry screeching, punctuated by something hard, impacting something else hard, and breaking. Probably Imp throwing another one of his toys again. 

“Yes, Your Highness.” Came back Mantenna’s, voice, sounding tired and frustrated by having to deal with the unruly child. 

“Stay with him.” Hec-Tor commanded. 

With Monstron docking with Nordor, there was a chance –however slight- of enemies forcing their way aboard the ship. If that happened, the Prince wanted his two best and most trusted lieutenants guarding his only child. 

“Enlisted and clone units are ready at your command, Your Highness.” Announced one bridge officer. 

“Energizer room is waiting on your command, Your Highness.” Said another. 

“Monstron’s pre-space docking checklist is complete, we only need your order, Your Highness.” Chimed in the helmsman. 

Hec-Tor nodded. He loved it when his soldiers acted quickly and were efficient. “Tell the energizer room they are a Go. Do not begin docking procedures until the clone units have secured the hangar.”

“Yes, Sir!”

…

The Imperial response took longer than Flogg expected. With a name like ‘the Horde’, one would assume the military would just throw waves upon waves of cloned soldiers at them until they were too exhausted to continue. (And, admittedly, that had been a common strategy among many Horde leaders over the years.)

But when Skeletor left, he warmed Flogg not to underestimate Prince Hec-Tor. He might be a sheltered little royal with next to no actual battle experience of his own. But he was well educated and well studied in battle strategy, and had picked up more abstract ways of thinking from his late husband (a detail Flogg felt it was strange for an anti-government agent like Skeletor to know). 

The first strike happened exactly as Skeletor described. 

The second strike would not be quite so predictable. 

Three new squads, enlisted aliens, not clone troopers materialized in three separate parts of the station. The multiple groups forcing Flogg to divide his own forces –and the mutants did not have as great numbers as the trooper units of the Imperial Horde. They were called ‘the Horde’ for a reason. 

It was actually Crita, Slush Head, and Optikk who divided up their forces. Each one leading a small force to engage the Imperial soldiers. 

The skirmishes were in close quarters, which thinned the numbers of both groups. Causing them all to bottle-neck in the corridors. The Horde did have the superior number, and superior training. But the mutants made the Nordor lunar base their home, and thus understood the terrain better. They used the narrow corridors to their advantage, ambushing the Horde troops from around corners, or by popping out of doors. 

This time, the mutants did suffer casualties. They had to clear their own dead from the halls as well as Horde troops. 

But they still managed to come out on top. By the time the station went quiet again, all the Horde soldiers were dead and the mutants still controlled Nordor. 

At least, until a shudder ran through the station, shaking the floor and walls.

During all the confusion, Monstron, the Prince’s flagship had docked with the station. A sea of clones between the mutants and the capitol ship. But more importantly, a sea of clones and a capitol ship between the mutants and any chance of escape. The mutants might be winning at the moment, but they wouldn’t be winning for long and the Horde had just made sure they weren’t going anywhere.

…

Entrapta burst onto the bridge in a whirlwind of undulating hair and enthusiasm. “Hec-Tor! I have an idea!”

“Your Highness, please, we are in the middle of a military strike and cannot-“ Callix began, but the Prince cut him off. Silencing the Stoneman Admiral with a raised palm. 

Entrapta might be a Princess from a world that had not had any wars of its own for many generations. But she was still an expert with technology, a manufacturer of arms, and distributed her weapons to different military outfits through out the universe. She could not be completely ignorant of military engagements. 

“I will hear what the Princess has to say.” Hec-Tor announced. 

“Pull all your enlisted and non-clone troops back to the ship.” Entrapta announced. 

Everyone on the bridge stared at her as if she were insane. 

Hec-Tor was suddenly regretting humoring her idea. He was commander of this vessel, overseeing this strike on the lunar base, and a Prince of the Empire. People needed to trust his judgment, and he’d just shown that maybe his judgment wasn’t that great. 

“Princess,” he began slowly, making sure his voice was controlled. Even if he didn’t think she understood what was happening here, she was still his legal wife and he had to show her the proper respect. “We are in the middle of trying to retake this base. Recalling our troops would be counter productive to that goal.”

“Not all the troops.” Entrapta clarified, her own voice taking on a tone of patience, as if she were trying to make someone understand something that seemed obvious to her. As if she were trying to educate a child but wasn’t quite sure how. Entrapta was never sure how to talk to people. “Just the alien ones. Leave all the clones, and send in more. I guess you can leave any enlisted who come from a species that can breathe a thin atmosphere too. That’s fine.”

She smiled at him, as if expecting him to suddenly understand what she was saying and grasp the brilliance of it. 

Hec-Tor only stared back at her. He felt like there was a part of the conversation he had missed somehow. He did not grasp the brilliance. “What bearing does breathing in a thin atmosphere have on anything?”

Entrapta looked frustrated for a moment, realizing that whatever she was trying to say was not getting through. She sighed, her hair sagging at her sides. Then she took in another breath and lifted herself up to be on Hec-Tor’s eye-level. Spreading more tendrils of hair wide to indicate the space around them. 

“You call Nordor a ‘lunar base’ no because it’s built on a moon, but because Nordor is the moon. It’s not moon, it’s a space station kinda deal! As such, it doesn’t have an atmosphere of its own, its atmosphere is created artificially just like the one on this ship. And just like the atmosphere on this ship, it’s kept at ‘species neutral’, an air density and chemical balance between oxygen and nitrogen that accommodates to most species in the universe. But the clone troopers are clones of the first Horde Prime, they’re ancient space bats, and can still function and fight in thinner airs with lower oxygen levels.”

Frowning in thought, Hec-Tor began to grasp what it was she was trying to say. “And how would you suggest we override Nordor’s climate controls to accomplish this?”

“Easy, beam me over there!” She announced, smiling. As if that were a simple and obvious solution. As if it didn’t involve placing an Imperial Princess in harms way in the middle of a warzone. “I can hack into their systems and override their life-support.” A pause. “I’ll need a breathing mask of my own before I go. I can’t breathe in thinner air.”

Every officer on the bridge was starting at Hec-Tor, whom was in turn staring at Entrapta. 

“Absolutely not.” The Prince finally announced.

“But I can-“ She began to argue. 

“I will not send an Imperial Princess with no military training and no fighting experience into the heart of enemy territory on the off chance that she may be able to get into their computers.” Hec-Tor explained. For some reason, the image of Keldor flashed through his mind. Keldor did have combat experience and he Hec-Tor still lost him. He was not about to lose another spouse –not even one he was still getting to know. 

From one of the command stations monitoring the troops’ vitals, one of the bridge officers lifted their head. “Sir, all enlisted units have gone non-active.” They reported. “They’re dead, Sir.”

“Damn mutants.” Callix muttered so that only those who came from species with pointed ears, or otherwise excellent hearing could hear. 

Hec-Tor heard him. 

These mutants were proving to be more capable and competent than he originally thought. Hec-Tor did want to get this over with and eradicate them quickly. 

Suppressing the urge to sigh, the Prince decided on a compromise. “You will choose a clone from the vitrine bay and program it to perform the task you described.”

“Huh? But that won’t work.” Entrapta argued. “You can’t just program someone how to hack. Hacking is complicated. It takes creativity. If a computer throws up a firewall, or a complicated anti-tamper ware, you gotta think creatively to get around it. I’ve met your clones and I’d be impressed if they even think, never mind creatively. It’s gotta be me.”

There was the beat of a pause.

Entrapta and Hec-Tor did nothing more than stare at each other. 

Everyone on the bridge was staring at them. 

A comm officer answered an alert on their headset. “The energizer room is awaiting your next orders, Sir.”

“What are your orders, You Highness?” Callix asked. 

“I can do it.” Entrapta assured him. 

Hec-Tor straightened, adjusting the high collar of his gown, and smoothing down his hair. “Princess Entrapta is one of the best technical minds in the universe.” He informed the bridge crew. “We will furnish her with a breathing apparatus and a squad of clone units to guard her. Any enlisted units left alive, bring them back to the ship. Send it twelve more squads of clones. Overwhelm them, and show them why we’re called ‘the Horde’!”

There was another chous of “Yes, Sir!”

“Admiral Callix, you have the bridge. I shall escort the Princess to the energizer room.” Hec-Tor offered Entrapta his arm. 

A little surprised that they had agreed to her plan so easily, Entrapta looked at Hec-Tor’s offered arm, then up at his face. Then she smiled, deciding to take the gesture at face value. 

He was so much taller than her, his arm in the escort position came up to Entrapta’s eye-level. Using her hair to walk, Entrapta lifted herself up to be closer to his level. 

“It’s so great that you agreed to my plan!” She beamed at him. People were always so skeptical of her ideas at first. It usually took going ahead and doing it anyway to get people to see that she wasn’t crazy, she just thought differently than others. 

“I will be accompanying you for your part of the mission.” Hec-Tor informed her. 

Entrapta blinked at him, taken aback. “Oh.” Then her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Do you have much experience hacking into life-support systems?”

“No.” He confessed. “But I am smarter than the clone units and if you were to perish, I would need to tell my Brother I did everything in my power to protect you.”

Idly, Hec-Tor wondered what would happen to the arms manufacturing in Dryl if Princess Entrapta were to die without producing an heir. Did she have another relative somewhere on Etheria that would take it over and would Prime want to enter into a new contract with them? The dossier didn’t mention anything about extended relatives. Or, as her husband, would Dryl and its arms production pass to Hec-Tor…?

“Oh.” She said again, visibly disappointed that he wasn’t sharing some hidden talent with computer software and hacking he hadn’t displayed before. But she wiped the disappointment off her face and replaced it with another smile. “Well, it’s nice to be wanted.”

That, at least, was something Hec-Tor could agree with. It was nice to be wanted. 

On the way to the energizer room, they stopped at their quarters so that Hec-Tor could collect his arm canon. 

Grizzlor met them inside, passing through the refresher that connected Hec-Tor’s room to Imp’s. From the other side, they could hear Imp’s wordless screeching and Mantenna begging the child to calm down and assuring him that he was sure his father would return to let him out soon. Just please stop throwing things! Grizzlor visibly winced when something hard smashed against the opposite refresher door and sounded like it may have broken. 

“Is it over yet? May we let the Prince out, Your Highness?” He asked. Grizzlor was a professional and never begged. There was no audible sound of pleading in his voice. But he had been a member of Hec-Tor’s staff for many years, since before Keldor’s disappearance in fact. Hec-Tor did not have to hear pleading in his lieutenant’s voice to know that he was pleading with him. 

Hec-Tor snapped his arm canon onto the exterior plating of his armor, then moved his arm in several directions. Testing to make sure the weapon was secure in its place, and that his arm was still balanced. 

“Imp will remain here where it is safe until I return.” He informed his lieutenant. “If I do not return, you and Mantenna will escort my son back to Horde World and to the custodianship of my Brother.”

Grizzlor was did not comment on the Prince’s choice of phrasing. ‘Custodianship’, not ‘care’. Instead, he gave a bow. “As you command, Your Highness.” 

He took a breath before stepping back into Imp’s room. Dealing with a fussy toddler whom was sued to getting everything he wanted was no easy task, not even for one a disciplined and well trained at the graduates of the Horde Academy on Horde World. Hec-Tor and Entrapta caught a glimpse of Imp throwing another one of his toys and the projectile almost hitting Grizzlor in the head before the door slammed shut behind him. 

Equipped with his weapon now, Hec-Tor lead Entrapta to the energizer room. 

A squad of clones was already waiting for them. As was an over-enthusiastic enlisted ensign holding a breathing mask and oxygen tank. 

“Ooh! I’ve never hacked an actual military system before!” Entrapta bounced on her hair, making a high-pitched squeal of excitement. She wrapped her hair around the mask and tank, taking them from the paws of the now startled and uncomfortable ensign. 

She had trouble fastening it around her head. 

“You will have to remove your welding mask.” Hec-Tor informed her. 

The briefest moment of panic flashed across her face. As if having to remove her welding mask for anything besides sleeping or bathing was the absolute worst thing that could happen to her. Hec-Tor wondered if the plan was about to be aborted because would not remove her welding mask to replace it with the breathing one. 

Entrapta glared at the breathing mask, examining it critically. She bent the edges that were meant to wrap around her nose and cheeks. Her hair traced the hose the linked the breathing mask to the oxygen tank. It wasn’t the mask part that was important, it was the oxygen. She needed to be able to breath. She did not need to look like a Horde enlisted soldier while she did. 

“Give me a minute.” Seemingly from out of nowhere –from out of her hair- Entrapta produced several tools. 

There was a swirl of motion and lavender hair. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled their ears and even the stoic and impassive clone units winced. 

When Entrapta was done, her own welding mask was lowered over her face, and the breathing mask was in pieces on the floor at her feet. She had cannibalized to airseal and hose from it, adding them to her own mask. Entrapta’s regular welding mask now connected to the hose of the oxygen tank. 

“I’m ready to go when you are.” She announced. No one could see her face anymore, but her smile could be heard in her voice. She was still excited to be jumping into an active combat zone. 

Offering her his arm again, Hec-Tor lead Entrapta onto the energizer pad. The squad on silent clone units circled around them, taking up a defensive formation. The exact formation they would be in when they materialized in the enemy base. 

Now that they were ready, Hec-Tor gave the order. “Beam us down.”


	13. Face In the Background

The air inside the Nordor was base stale and carried the distinct smell of spent blaster packs and the mild tang of fresh blood mixed with voided bowels that was the hallmark of a battle field. Entrapta could not smell it on account of her mask, but Hec-Tor did. He placed a hand over his mouth and nasal cavity. He did not enjoy the stink of a battle. 

There was not enough space in the narrow corridor for the clones accompanying them to fan out and form a perimeter around their royal charges. Instead, they closed in together in a tight circle around the Prince and Princess, weapons up and poised to blast anything that came near them. 

“What do you need?” Hec-Tor asked.

“Any terminal that connects to the base’s mainframe.” Entrapta told him. “It doesn’t have to be an actual command console, just so long as it’s on the same network. A service, or maintenance terminal would be ideal since they already have backdoors in place to run diagnoses on systems.”

Hec-Tor nodded. Peering between the clones he glanced up and down the corridor. There were no terminals within his immediate view. Lifting his hand, Hec-Tor made a forward motion, and the clones began to move in formation. Making sure they kept the royal pair in their center. 

Entrapta got excited and tried to run ahead the moment she saw a computer terminal jutting out from the wall. 

Using her hair, she vaulted over the wall of clones that was their guard. Hec-Tor tried to reach out to grab her arm before she could leave the safety of the formation, but she was too fast and he was too slow. His hand closed around empty air. 

She got to the terminal, just as a patrolling mutant came around the corner. 

They froze upon seeing Entrapta and another squad of clones had materialized in the corridor. 

Entrapta did not seem the least bit perturbed. She smiled at the patrolling mutant from behind her mask and offered them a cheerful sounding, “Hi.” Before going to work at the terminal. Typing with her hair while her gloved hands scratched at her face where the airtight seal formed over her skin. 

The mutant raised a communicator to their mouth. “There’s more Horde in the lower aft corridor!”

“Kill them!” Hec-Tor commanded his clones, breaking into a sprint to close the space between himself and Entrapta. She was too far from the protection of the clone units, and too close to the enemy soldier. “Protect the Princess!”

Wordlessly, the clones moved to follow his orders. With half the group breaking off to encircle Entrapta, while the other half gunned down the lone mutant patroller. 

Entrapta, for her part, seemed almost not to notice the motion and activity around her. Not even when the dead body of the mutant fell very close to her feet. She was focused on her task and could not let silly things like a dead body distract her. 

Hec-Tor flattened his back against the wall next to her, his arm canon raised, and glanced up and down the corridor.

“You two-“ he pointed to the two clone units he meant “-guard the corner. Make sure no more mutants surprise us.”

Wordlessly, the two units took up guard positions at either side of the T-intersection the mutant patroller had come from. 

Turning his attention back to the Entrapta, Hec-Tor glanced at the terminal screen. All the lines of code meant nothing to him. They were as incomprehensible as Keldor’s magic books had been. Hec-Tor turned his attention to the woman typing instead. “How long until you are done?”

“Sh~hh.” Entrapta soothed him. “You can’t rush these things. You gotta take time to get to know the computer… and her systems. Ease in slowly… Figure out what makes her tick. Then, once you’re in, you can start stirring up her insides…”

Hec-Tor blinked at her. It was impossible for him to read her expression with the mask on, and he didn’t know if she was trying to joke with him or not. Now was not exactly the time for jokes. But it also wasn’t the time for serious innuendo either. 

The keys of the outdated terminal clacked as her hair danced over them. More lines of code scrolled across the screen. Hec-Tor hoped it was making sense to her. 

Coming from the opposite end of the corridor, more mutants came running up, weapons in hands (or equivalent appendage). The patroller had managed to get a report out before the clone units killed them, and it looked like the mutants’ response time was fast. 

Leveling his arm canon and taking aim down the center of the group, Hec-Tor shot at what he assumed was the leader. 

The beam streaked down the corridor. Illuminating the narrow space with red light, brighter than most planet’s suns. It obliterated half the mutant forces, but the leader he was aiming at ducked and weaved to the side, just barely managing to avoid the blast. The worst injury she sustained was some singed and burn ends of hair. 

Hec-Tor swore in Garish. 

Clone units moved, placing themselves between the Prince and the attacking mutants. 

With a short-staff in one hand, the mutant leader swung at the nearest clone trooper. It’s skull caved in on impact and the clone fell to the ground. With her other arm, she swung a whip. The long lash arching over the wall of clones between her and the Prince and wrapping itself around Hec-Tor’s cannon. She jercked the whip hard, nearly pulling the Prince off his feet. 

Hec-Tor caught himself, one hand going to the wall for balance. He tried freeing himself by shooting at her again. 

The mutant woman did drop the whip, releasing him. But only because she jumped out of the way again to avoid the blast. 

Disentangling the whip from his weapon, Hec-Tor took his eyes off his enemy just long enough to chance a glance back at Entrapta. She was still typing away with her hair. “How much longer?”

“Got it!” Entrapta called back, happily. As if she were having a grand ol’ time and wasn’t surrounded by soldiers and rebels, locking in a heated battle for survival. 

Hec-Tor looked back at the mutant woman, expecting her to drop instantly. 

“It did not work!” He snarled. 

“No, it did.” Entrapta assured him. She picked up one of the fallen mutant’s weapons with her hair, and lifted it to her mast to examine with interest. “Ooh… nice adaptations for non-standard grips…” She looked back up at Hec-Tor when he growled, low in the back of his throat. “Oh. Right, you don’t know what I did. I turned off the oxygen recyclers, so there’s no new oxygen being pumped through the base. As soon as we use up what’s already in their air, everyone who’s not a space bat, or wearing a breathing mask will start to feel the effects.”

He blinked down at her, realizing how stupid he was. Of course, the results wouldn’t show immediately. That wasn’t how respiratory strategies worked. Hec-Tor looked back to where his clones had placed themselves between him and the enemy. 

She did look like she was slowing down a bit. Not enough to make a difference yet, she was too competent a warrior for that. But she was breathing harder, her movements just a little delayed. Just enough to be noticed. 

The sensors in his armor beeped an alert. Oxygen levels were dropping. Not enough to cause any harm to him, he did not need oxygen as much as other species. But the drop was rapid enough for the sensor settings to give an alert. 

Hec-Tor could see it more now. The mutant commander was breathing hard, taking deep, gulping breaths, to try and fill her lungs with the oxygen she was not getting. Her shoulders were slumping, and she seemed to be having trouble raising her weapons. She tried to swing her short staff at the nearest clone unit. 

But the motion was too slow and the clone grabbed the weapon and pulled. Pulling her off her feet as it did so. 

The mutant stumbled, almost falling into the clone. But the unit landed a hard, closed fist punch to her middle mass, and she spat, staggering backwards and gasping for breath. The clone raised it’s weapon, ready to finish her off. 

“I want her alive.” Hec-Tor commanded before the clone unit could deal the killing blow. 

If she was one of the mutant leaders, then Hec-Tor would want her alive to interrogate later. 

He tapped his communicator. “Status report?”

“Clone units signaling all clear across the base.” Callix’s voice came back. “They’ve isolated three other mutant leaders and are holding them for your questioning, Your Highness. All other hostiles have been neutralized. Nordor is ours again.”

In the background of the comm, Hec-Tor heard a few enthusiastic “Yeah!” from the enlisted members of the bridge crew. The clone units surrounding him and Entrapta made no such celebratory noises. 

Hec-Tor looked down at Entrapta –whom was now examining the mutant woman’s whip- he could not have taken the Nordor base so easily if it weren’t for her plan or her technical skills. She might not be as attentive or affectionate as Keldor had been, but she was still a surprisingly good partner for him. In her own way. 

…

The four mutant leaders captured alive were Flogg, Optikk, Slush Head, and Crita. All of them unconscious from lack of oxygen. The prisoners were placed in Monstron’s brig to await interrogation. 

Hec-Tor took out an anti-septic wipe and wiped down the throne before he sat down. It felt good to be in control of the base. 

Entrapta bounced around the throne room, examining everything she saw with wonder. She had never been given such freedom to examine and explore military tech before. She found everything absolutely fascinating. Every screen, readout, and console seemed to be of keen interest to her. 

Hec-Tor was reclining on the throne, drafting up a report to send to his Brother on the successful strikes on both Krytis and Nordor when he heard Entrapta make a wordless exclamation of excitement. He looked up at her. 

Without him even needing to ask, Entrapta explained, “I’m in their old security feeds.” She typed a few lines of code into the terminal and every screen in the throne room was filled with a different scene from someone on the Nordor, base. Each one with a time stamp announcing the Imperial date on which the reel was taken. “Look at all the interesting adaptations for their different mutations! This base was an Imperial soace station and so was designed for Horde military use, and these mutants have augmented so much of it to better fit them and their needs. Isn’t it great!”

An idea occurring to him, Hec-Tor stood from the throne. He crossed the room to stand behind her. “Can you catalogue the individual mutants?”

Blinking up at him, Entrapta smiled, thinking he was taking an interest in her interest. “Yeah! All the mutants are pretty unique from one another. It should be easy to put together a roster of them!”

“Excellent.” Hec-Tor nodded, liking Entrapta even more. She was proving to be even more useful than Brother lead him to believe. “We will run your catalogue against the bodies of those killed and the ones captured. Once all those here are accounted for, the one –or ones- left will be our mysterious informants.”

There was no way the mutants of Nordor could have been as prepared for them as they were without outside influence. Hec-Tor wanted to discover who or what that outside influence was and put a stop to it. Running an empire was hard enough without outsiders trying to tear it down. 

“Oh.” Entrapta was just a little disappointed to learn that it was not their adaptations he was interested in. She would have thought, given his own condition and physical limitations, he would be interested in seeing how other creatures adapted to thrive. “Sure. It’s just a simple matter of compiling data. That’s easy.”

“I will have someone catalogue the mutant soldiers we have killed.” He nodded. “To compare to the roster you will compile.”

“Okay.” She agreed, decidedly less enthusiastically. But at least he no longer thought she was a ‘security risk’ and was actually letting her work with him. That was something. 

…

The first thing Crita became aware of was how much her lungs hurt. Dry and scratchy. Like pins and needles inside her chest. She was coughing and gasping before she even opened her eyes. 

When she did open her eyes, all she saw was a wash of gray. The gray metal paneling of an imperial detention cell. 

She didn’t have time to process her new circumstances, however, because the moment whoever was in charge of the prisoners noticed she was awake, they sent in two clones to collect her and take her to an interrogation room. 

Two clone units pushed their way into her cell, and tried to grab her by the arms. She fought back, swinging her legs up and kicking one while the other held her. It staggered backwards silently, but did not fall. She was still too weak from her initial defeat to do any serious damage. Working together, the two clones dragged her, screaming profanities and kicking at them, down the corridor. 

The interrogation room was dimply lit, but looked clean. Metal paneled walls, ceiling, and floor. A table sliding out from one wall, with two chairs, one on either side. A two-way mirror on one wall. A pretty standard interrogation room. The only overtly ominous detail was the drain in the floor. 

Manhandling Crita into one of the chairs, her clone escorts made sure she was restrained and unable to move before taking up guard positions by the door. 

A Rebrunk Nuru entered. Wearing the uniform of a high ranked Horde Officer, with the badge of a royal attendant over the Horde insignia on his chest. He carried a rolled canvas tote in one hand and a datapad in the other. The door slammed shut behind him, and Crita heard it lock. Loudly. 

He set the rolled canvas tote and the datapad down on the table, then took up the empty chair opposite her. “I’m Mantenna,” he informed her, “a Force Captain working directly under Prince Hec-Tor Kur of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire and I’ll be conducting your interview.”

“Interview?” Crita echoed, her skepticism dripping from every syllable. “Don’t you mean interrogation?”

Mantenna rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “That depends, entirely, on you.”

If she cooperated, answered his questions and gave him the information he wanted, she would be treated well (‘well’ in relation to her position as an enemy prisoner). However, all her comrades would know she betrayed them and if any of them ever got her alone, and away from the clone guards, they’d show her exactly what they thought of snitches and traitors. 

So, Crita did the only thing that seemed appropriate to her. She spat at the Imperial dog. Snorting loudly as she rolled her mucus to get a nice, tick, loogie before spitting in his face.

Slowly, every slowly, Mantenna raised a finger to wipe the mucus from where it had landed on his cheek. He wiped his cheek a few more time just to make sure it was gone because –gross- then he sighed. As if Crita’s projectile spit was no more than a minor inconvenience. 

“Alright,” he said. “If that is your decision.”

Under the table, Mantenna lifted one of his four legs and kicked Crita’s chair so that she slid backwards. Scraping against the metal floor until the back of the chair impacted the wall behind her. It knocked the air out of her still recovering lungs and she gasped and coughed. 

Standing, Mantenna unrolled the canvas tote over the table, revealing it to be a took bag full of many multiple knives and bladed instruments. 

“Do your worst!” She snarled at him. “I won’t tell you shit!”

He selected a small, thin instrument. Almost like an awl. “I haven’t even asked you any questions yet.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you ask, my answer will be the same,” she promised him. “Fuck you!”

“Hm.” Mantenna was not impressed. He came around the table, crossing the space between them and kneeling in front of the chair she was restrained on. “I confess, I’m not very familiar with mutant anatomy. So, at the moment, I only have one question: Is this a nerve?”

He used the awl to lightly poke at the tip of one of her fingers. Not hard. Certainly not enough to break the skin. But definitely enough to be felt if the spot was a nerve. 

“Fuck you!” Was Crita’s only response. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. How about here, is this a nerve?” He moved the awl to the space between two fingers, right in the finger-crotch where the two digits joined the rest of the hand. 

Crita let out a sudden hiss from between his teeth, and the fingers curled in, forming a fist to protect the spot from his poking. 

“Ah, I think I’ve found one.” Mantenna announced. 

“Fuck. You.” Crita repeated. 

“I think we can begin.” He announced, replacing the awl and selecting a different tool. “For your sake, madam, I do hope you reconsider you position and cooperate.”

…

Hec-Tor scrolled through the catalogue of mutants Entrapta had compiled from the Nordor security footage, and compared it to the headshots he’s had his own soldiers take of the mutants they killed. The only ones on Entrapta’s list were the four leaders still alive and in their custody, and one other. 

A mostly humanoid body. Two arms, two legs. Muscular. Thick built. Clearly a warrior of some kind. Of average height for most races of the universe. Blue skin everywhere except for his face. His face… did not look like it had skin at all. 

At first Hec-Tor thought that his species just had different pigment on their faces than the rest of their bodies. Hec-Tor’s own face was white, while most his body (not counting the discoloration from his conditions) was a steely gray-blue. But upon a more critical examination of the frame Entrapta had used in the catalogue, Hec-Tor realized that it was not pale yellow-white or ivory skin on his face. It was bone. Whoever he was, he had a skull for a head. 

Turning the datapad so that Entrpata could see the one he was interested in, he asked, “May I see more footage of this one?”

“Uh, sure!” Her hair danced over the keyboard, punching in a couple lines of code before multiple screens were filled with different footage reels containing the unnamed, skull-faced, interloper. 

Footage of skull-face talking with a skeptical and critical looking Flogg. Footage of skull-face showing Flogg and his lieutenants, Slush Head, Optikk, and Crita, a hologram of Monstron, and holding up his fingers, counting how many troops she carried and how they were spread out over the ship. Then replacing the hologram of Monstron with a hologram of the Nordor base and pointing out the exact spot in the base that Hec-Tor ordered the first wave of clones be teleported. 

Whoever this skull-faced informant was, he had too much knowledge of not just Imperial tactics, but of Hec-Tor’s personal flagship and Hec-Tor himself. Not some disillusioned nobody from a backwater world, then. This mysterious informant had to be a former Horde officer –and a highly ranked officer to know what he knew. One of Monstron’s old bridge officers maybe? Hec-Tor did not recognize him. 

“Is there sound to any of these?” He asked Entrapta.

She shook her head. “No. Nordor security feeds are visual only. No audio.” 

He suppressed the urge to growl in frustration. Of course there wasn’t any audio. Of course he couldn’t just turn on the sound and hear the mutants call the informant by a name. That would be to easy. 

“Give this footage to my Lieutenant, Grizzlor.” Hec-Tor told her. “He will isolate the clearest frame of his face. We can sent out a bulletin from Monstron once we are back in hyperspace. I want his face on every media outlet by the time we reach Etheria.”

“Okay.” Entrapta shrugged, recognizing that her contributions to this project were more-or-less over. “Can I keep the footage to continue studying their adaptations?”

“You are a Princess of the Empire and may do as you wish.” He reminded her. “If it pleases you, you may collect whatever adaptations interest you from their bodies. I will have the clones clean and store them for our journey.”

He was not expecting her to become as excited as she did when he said that. Hair going a little frizzy for half a moment, her body practically vibrating with excitement, as her teeth spread in an unsettling smile. She let out a high-pitched squeal. “Really? Thank you! I promise, you won’t be sorry!”

Hec-Tor had no idea what to say to that. He was still getting used to her unfettered enthusiasm. So, he offered her a polite bow and excused himself. He had to talk to Mantenna about the interrogations anyway. Maybe one of the captured mutant leaders would have more information about their mysterious skull-faced enemy. 

He wanted to know how the mysterious informant could know so much.


	14. Horde Prima, Par-Is Kur

Keldor was awakened by the irritating sound of a datapad ringing. Groggy, irritable, and still half-asleep, he reached over his new husband –whom seemed to still be fast asleep- and grabbed at the offending device. 

It had been two days since he left Eternia aboard the Velvet Glove, Horde Prime’s flagship. They were still in hyperspace, the viewport of their cabin showing only the mottled blue and white canopy of faster-than-light travel. 

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Keldor answered the call. He had been gone for two days, and Randor had already called to tell his ‘favorite’ brother how much he missed him six times. Keldor was expecting to see his little brother’s face smiling at him when he answered the pad. 

Keldor blinked at the face on the other end of the call. It was not his youngest brother staring at him. 

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, seeing the face of a space bat. 

He was still getting used to the pale nightmare faces of his new husband’s race, and he still had trouble discerning gender some times. But this one appeared female to him. With cobalt blue hair and glowing ruby eyes, like Hec-Tor. 

She also looked like hell. 

Her face was sweat-soaked, and her cobalt hair was matted and plastered to her neck and the sides of her face. There were dark circles under her eyes that were definitely from exhaustion, and had nothing to do with her running eyeliner. Her cheeks were puffy and her lower lip quivered as if she were fighting really hard to hold back tears. 

“Who the hell are you?” She echoed right back at him. She might look like she was sick, or about to break down sobbing, or about to pass out, or any combination of the three. But that did not stop her from glaring at him with suspicion. “I called the private line for Prince Hec-Tor Kur, and he is not you.”

It was then, that the still half-asleep Keldor noticed that the datapad he answered was Hec-Tor’s not his own. “I’m his husband.” He explained, still feeling new to the idea and uncomfortable because of it, and also strangely foolish saying it out loud. “Prince Keldor.”

“The Eternian, Anillis arranged for.” She recognized him now. 

There was the beat of a pause. “I still don’t know who you are.”

“You are speaking with Empress Par-Is Kur, Horde Prima of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire.” It seemed like she was trying to sound proud and imperious. But she was so exhausted, that the announcement sounded hollow, even coming through the datapad audio speakers. “You can put Hec-Tor on the line now.”

Looking at the sleeping body next to him, Keldor gave his husband a gentle little shake. Not too hard. He was still getting used to how much was ‘too rough’ for the Horde Prince. 

Hec-Tor only groaned in his sleep and rolled over to try and wrap his arms around Keldor’s pillow and hug it close to himself. He nuzzled at the fabric in his sleep a bit before his brain finally registered that it was not a warm body he was trying to cuddle up with. He blinked glowing eyes up at his husband and pushed himself to sit up next to him. He yawned loudly, mouthing opening wide to display his sharp crimson teeth. 

Keldor looked away. “The Empress is calling you.” He tried to pass the datapad to the other man. 

“Par-Is?” Hec-Tor took the pad. “You look unwell!”

Seeing his face finally, Par-Is did break down and cry. Loud, wet, ugly sobs. Keldor climbed out of the bed. This seemed like it was going to be a private conversation. 

“He’s gonna kill me.” Par-Is announced, the speakers of the datapad distorting the words just a bit on account of her uneven breathing. 

“He’s not going to kill you.” Hec-Tor tried to assure her, drawing his knees up and appearing to settle in for what he expected to be a long conversation. “Brother wouldn’t do that.”

Keldor wasn’t exactly trying not to listen. He was actually, listening quite intently. It was hard not to be curious, especially when this was the family he had just married into and their drama would affect him directly. But he did try to appear as if he weren’t listening to try and put Hec-Tor at ease. He grabbed a robe from the built-in chest of drawers in their suite and threw it on over his pajama’s moving as if he were going to leave the cabin. 

“I lost another one.” Par-Is announced. “I can’t keep one alive, so he has no use for me. He’s going to kill me!”

Unbidden, the memory of his mother telling him that Horde Prime’s wife couldn’t bear a living child rose to his mind. Empress Par-Is Kur was Horde Prime’s wife. 

“Calm down.” Hec-Tor pleaded with her. “These things happen all the time. I’m sure you’ll be able to have one. The timing just isn’t right. You need to rest and replenish your strength.” 

She let out another choking sob. “I don’t wanna do this anymore!”

Keldor actually did leave the room. His mother would have counseled him to stay and listen. To learn everything he could about the Prime’s real relationship with his wife. But Keldor did not want to sit there and listen. He had his own on-going emotional crisis to deal with. He did not want to take on the personal tragedies of in-laws he –officially- hadn’t met yet. 

The stateroom door slid shut behind him and Keldor walked barefoot down the corridor. He didn’t really have any particular destination in mind. He was just walking. Allowing his mind to wander. 

A pair of clones patrolling the corridors saw him. They paused in their step to flatten themselves against the walls and bow as he passed. Never uttering a word, their expressions never changing. Keldor found the clone units of the Horde military a tad unsettling. They were so silent and stoic, they were no better than dolls. Robots had more life in them than clones did. 

Ignoring the clones, and continuing down the corridor, he eventually came upon two enlisted soldiers. Aliens from worlds under the Empire’s control that had chosen to join the Horde military for one reason or another. Keldor did like the enlisted. They reminded him of the warriors of Eternia. A diverse group of people from different races, each with different powers and abilities, different backgrounds and upbringings. They had the most interesting stories and told the best jokes. One of Keldor’s favorite things about Eternia was hanging out and drinking with its warriors. 

The enlisted soldiers of the Horde military did not hang out with him. It was not appropriate for soldiers to drink with royal consorts. It sure as hell wasn’t appropriate for them to tell the kinds of jokes Keldor was used to hearing, around royal consorts. 

Both enlisted snapped to attention when they saw the Prince’s new husband coming towards them. Then they flattened their backs against the walls as the clones had done and offered Keldor respectful bows. Humbling themselves before their better. 

“At ease.” Keldor tried to make his voice sound lighthearted and friendly. He offered a smile, and put his hands on his hips when he asked, “So, what’s the scuttlebutt?”

The two exchanged a look. They were not used to the royals wanting to… gossip with them. 

“We’re officers of Horde Prime’s flagship, Your Highness.” One reminded him. “We would never spread rumors about the royal family.” 

“Does his highness require anything?” Asked the other. “I would be more than happy to fetch it for you myself if that would please you, Prince Imperial Keldor.”

“No.” Keldor sighed, feeling inexplicably exasperated. 

The two enlisted waited. Standing at a parade rest, legs (or equivalent limbs) slightly parted, arms clasp behind their backs. As if they were waiting for an instruction or command from him. 

“You’re dismissed.” Keldor finally figured out he needed to say.

The two enlisted bowed again, preformed Academy-perfect about faces and marched down the corridor away from the Prince as fast as they could without actually looking like they were fleeing. 

Keldor sighed. They hadn’t even reached Horde World yet, and he already hated being a Prince of the Empire. 

Eventually, he came to a small observation area. Not the observation deck, that was large and always full of off-duty enlisted. This was just a small little alcove, just off from the royal suites, with a wide transparesteel window and a couple of comfy looking chairs. Keldor sat down and glared at the blue and white mottling of hyperspace. Even the view was unappealing. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but that was where Hec-Tor found him when the Prince was finally done with his call and left their quarters to look for his husband. He sat down in the chair next to Keldor, both of them looking out the viewport at the unimpressive view of hyperspace. 

“Thank you.” He said. “For giving us privacy. Par-Is does not like appearing weak in front of people she does not know.” 

No royal liked to appear weak in front of people they didn’t know. Power was greatly based on perception. If you were perceived as weak, then you did not stay in power for very long. 

Still he was curious and couldn’t help but ask, “So, the Empress of the Known Universe has a miscarriage, and instead of calling the Emperor, her husband, she calls you.”

He didn’t phrase it like a question, but he really wanted to know. Not just because he would need to know if his husband was having an affair with the Empress, but also because he just really wanted to know! Could stiff and formal Prince Hec-Tor secretly be… an interesting person with dubious secrets? Keldor hoped so. 

“Why should she not call me?” Hec-Tor turned, blinking confused eyes at his husband. “Par-Is is my twin.”

Oh. That was decidedly less dubious than he was expecting. 

But, Keldor supposed, that did make more sense. Par-Is looked too much like Hec-Tor to be unrelated. All space bats had sharp cheekbones and angular features. But the spacing of her features and her coloring was very similar to Hec-Tor’s. Features that Keldor had had to become intimately familiar with in the past couple of days. 

So, Horde Prime’s wife was Hec-Tor’s twin. 

“Wait…” Keldor began slowly, talking through his thoughts. “Does that mean you’re not really the Emperor’s brother, you’re his brother-in-law?”

Hec-Tor looked confused. As if he didn’t understand why his husband might think that. “No. Anillis is my brother. Par-Is is my twin, and Anillis is our older brother.” A pause. “Didn’t they give you a dossier on me before our marriage?”

Yes. Keldor was given a dossier on Hec-Tor upon their engagement. Keldor took one look at his intended’s picture, ejected the datacard from the pad, and threw it in the fire. They gave him a dossier on Hec-Tor, but he did not read it. Now he was realizing that he really should have. If for no other reason than to avoid any future shocks. “Horde Prime married his sister?”

“Yes.” Again, Hec-Tor sounded as if he didn’t understand how this was a question. Didn’t everyone who needed an heir marry their sister?

Keldor could not even imagine fucking one of his brothers. “And this is… normal to you?”

“Of course!” He nodded.

Keldor only continued to stare at him. It was all starting to make an uncomfortable amount of sense. Horde Prime’s extra eyes, Hec-Tor’s frailty, discolorations, and constant blackouts. The Kurs were all sick and deformed because they were so terribly, terribly inbred. Keldor didn’t know why he didn’t realize it sooner. 

…

It was so unbearably hot on Horde World. Even under the canopy of the palanquin that carried them from the space port to the palace, Keldor could feel his skin baking in the sun. He sorely regretted wearing only a pair of belts crossed over his chest. This much direct sunlight and unbearable heat needed sleeves. He was going to be sunburned by the end of this, and since he was only half-Gar, sunburns meant purple, not a darker shade of blue. 

They were met outside the Imperial palace by a small army of attendants, both clone and alien alike. In the center of the formation was the Empress. 

Par-Is did not look anything like how Keldor saw her during her late-night call. 

She stood with her back straight, as military straight as the clones that surrounded her. Head held high, expression neutral. Cobalt hair twisted up into a series of elaborate knots. Eyes outlined with khol, foundation and concealer smoothing out the sharp angles of her face, lips painted provocatively dark. She was dressed in an electric green and while gown, of a similar cut and style as Hec-Tor’s, but tailored to the female figure. 

She greeted Horde Prime first. 

Even standing behind Prime, next to Hec-Tor, her words of welcome sounded mechanical and hollow. She was not happy to see her husband returned.

In response, Horde Prime only looked down and placed a hand to her abdomen. 

Par-Is seemed to almost flinch away from his touch, but stopped herself. 

“You lost another one.” He concluded. 

Keldor watched that perfectly neutral expression crack as her bottom lip quivered slightly. 

“You’ll just have to try again.” Prime brushed past her.

Her eyes managed to remain impassively neutral, but her lower lip was still quivering. 

Hec-Tor came up and wrapped his sister in a hug. Even with his husband’s body blocking most of her from view, Keldor saw her visibly relax. The brother she actually liked was back. Everything would be better now. 

“You seem in better spirits than when you left.” Par-Is observed, pulling away from her twin enough to take in the goofy smile on his face. “I take it the marriage was not as terribly as you imagined.”

“Not terrible at all!” Hec-Tor announced happily. “Keldor is wonderful!”

Keldor fidgeted uncomfortably at that. He was just barely managing to tolerate Hec-Tor. He did not feel particularly ‘wonderful’. 

Hec-Tor turned, inviting his new husband up to meet his sister –officially. “Par-Is, this is Keldor.”

He stepped forward and bowed to her. He wasn’t quite sure how deep to make it though. She was Empress of the Known Universe, so she was definitely above him. But he wasn’t just a Prince of a territory planet anymore. He was a Prince Imperial and her brother-in-law. Just how low was too low? How high was not low enough? He didn’t even know if his guess was correct, because when Keldor straightened and looked back up at her, the expression on Par-Is’ face was apprising. 

Looking him up and down. Taking in the long ebony hair, the pointed ears, the tiny mustache and trimmed goatee. His mostly bare chest with only two belts crossed in place of a shirt. The armored loincloth, his bare knees, and armored boots. Classic Eternian fashion. Fur, leather, armor, and lots and lots of exposed skin. She probably thought he looked like some kind of barbarian or savage. 

Finally, Par-Is smiled at him. An almost teasing smile. The kind of smile Keldor himself might give someone he had just met and was trying to throw off balance. “You look a lot better without the bed-head.”

…

Keldor had absolutely nothing to do on Horde World. 

Correction: he had nothing to do in the Imperial palace, because he could not get out to see the rest of Horde World. 

Horde Prime was the Emperor and Hec-Tor worked long hours preforming the task of actually ruling the Empire for the Emperor. Not that Keldor actually missed his husband’s company all that much. But Hec-Tor was the only person on Horde World he actually knew. Everyone else was a stranger. Keldor didn’t know anyone, Keldor couldn’t talk to anyone. 

Back on Eternia, when he got bored like this and there was no one to distract him, Keldor would just leave the castle and go make trouble in Eternos. Nothing was more fun than stirring up the unsavory elements of the capitol city.

But Keldor hadn’t even figured out how to get outside the palace. Never mind find the seedy underbelly of the city. 

And it wasn’t from lack of trying. Keldor tried. He tried so hard. 

The Imperial palace on Horde World was like a labyrinth. 

Tall spires reaching almost as high as the shield wall when raised. Deep basements and dungeons extending so deep into the ground it was rumored they hit the very bedrock of the planet shelf. Lifts that only went up so high before people with security clearance had to switch to a different lift. Stairs that spiraled around the perimeter, slowly climbing up the spires as it encircled them. It was difficult for an outsider to navigate. It was difficult to find an exit. 

When one did find an exit, it was always guarded. Clones and aliens alike. 

“Is there anything I can get for you, Prince Imperial Keldor?” They would ask. The alien guards, not the clones. The alien guards were always polite and eager to serve him. The clones never spoke, they just stood there, as unnervingly serene as porcelain dolls. 

Keldor would shake his head and walk away. 

He was going absolutely stir crazy inside the Imperial palace. 

He did find the library. That, at least helped him wither away a few days. The Imperial library was wide and sprawling. Shelves upon shelves filled with datacards. All the knowledge of the universe collected into one place. The history of every world under Horde control. Accounts of every Imperial conquest. Every battle. Every victory. Every loss. Every truce. 

Technically, Eternia was never conquered by the Horde. Eternia came into the Imperial fold after a truce was struck after a stalemate. One tiny world standing up to the might of an intergalactic Empire, and matching them blow for blow. That was long before Keldor’s time. Long before his father’s time too. Eternia struck its truce with the Horde Empire during the reign of King Freenorn, the Strong. He defended the planet and entire solar system with the help of He-Ro and He-Ra. That was back when there were still two swords, before the second sword was lost. 

Keldor drew a finger across the row of datacards on Eternia. It would be interesting to read the history of his world from a foreigner’s perspective. See how the Horde framed their defeats, and the truce. He pulled out the first card in the row and slipped it into his datapad, skimming over the table of contents. The first one was just about the discovery of the Adarion System, first contact with Eternia, first contact with Etheria, all prelude stuff. 

Ejecting the card from his datapad, Keldor replaced it on the shelf and selected the next one in the series. He skimmed over the table of contents of that one too. It was all about the geography of the plants, mountains, oceans, valleys, deserts, and ice caps. Technical stuff that was important and did play into battles, but not the battles themselves. Keldor ejected the second datacard and replaced it on the shelf too. 

He reached for the next one. Only to find its place on the rack empty. 

Taking a closer examination of the line of cards, Keldor noted that more than just one were missing. There were several narrow gaps on the shelf rack where the thin cards were supposed to go, but were missing from. 

Gathering all the Eternia cards off the shelf, Keldor actually sought out a person who worked in the Imperial palace, for the first time since he arrived on Horde World. 

“Is there anything I can help you with, Prince Imperial Keldor?” Asked the librarian, seeming overjoyed to be helping a member of the Imperial family in the library. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, spreading the datacards out on the counter. “Where are the rest of the datacards on Eternia? Has someone checked them out?”

The librarian examined the cards, noted their decimal numbers according to the filing system and realized that the Prince Imperial was right, there were several cards missing. They typed something into their terminal, looking up checkout and return records to see who had the outstanding files. An expression of confusion crossed their face at whatever the computer told them, so they did a different search.

Then leaned back from the terminal, still looking confused, but with an answer for the Prince. “According to our records no one has checked out these cards since they were added to the archive. This is all of them. There aren’t any missing.”

“But there are.” Keldor insisted. He pointed to the decimal filing they used to organize the library. “Just look at their shelf codes. There’s gaps in the numbers. If these really were all the datacards on Eternia, then there wouldn’t be gaps, they would all be linear and in numerical order.”

Pursing their lips, the librarian looked momentarily concerned. But the expression was there and gone in the space of a moment. It was replaced with the same helpful smile they had when Keldor first came up to the counter. “If you would like to check out the datacards on Eternia, I would be more than happy to help you.”

Keldor did check out the datacards. All of them. He was going to read them all. Very carefully. He preferred the adrenaline pumping action of fighting –like most people in his family- but his mother also made sure he was studious and critical –two things a person needed to be to be a competent sorcerer, and Keldor was also a competent sorcerer. If it really was just a filing error, then a read through of the data would show no gaps or holes in the history. 

But if there were gaps, that would imply that someone in the Horde was hiding information about Eternia. 

As an Eternian, that idea was very concerning to Keldor. 

…

Keldor was lounging on a sofa in the sitting room when Hec-Tor walked in. Their suites were spacious and Keldor even enjoyed the privacy and autonomy of his own bedroom. He didn’t have to share a bed with Hec-Tor unless… they wanted to share a bed with each other. But they did share a sitting room. 

Hec-Tor flopped down on the sofa, and Keldor moved his legs to make more room for him. He set the screen of his datapad to sleep and tossed it onto the coffee table. He still wasn’t particularly fond of Hec-Tor, and he still didn’t enjoy looking at those glowing eyes or those crimson teeth. But, Hec-Tor was the only one in the whole blasted palace that talked to him as if he were a person and not some kind of… reverent figure. 

Keldor missed talking to people… 

“Rough day?”

In answer to this, Hec-Tor only groaned, massaging the sides of his head. Apparently, he had a headache. 

Not particularly wanting to, but feeling he should because his mother would want him to maintain a working relationship with his husband, Keldor sat up, reached over and replaced Hec-Tor’s hands with his own. Massaging small circles into the sides of his head, and working in a little bit of magic to help ease the tension. And, by the Goddess! Did this guy have tension! Keldor could feel is practically vibrating inside his skull like a physical thing. He strengthened the soothing spells he was using. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” Keldor asked, not particularly caring, and already planning on tuning out whatever his husband had to say. 

Visibly relaxing, Hec-Tor allowed himself to lean against the solid wall of muscle that was Keldor, and he sighed in appreciation. 

“Brother wants to expand the Empire even more.” Hec-Tor groaned. “That’s all fine and good, the universe is infinite, there will always be something new to discover and bring into the Empire. But sorting out the logistics of it is apparently my job.”

“Mm.” Keldor nodded, only half listening. As a Prince of a world that had been independent but was not under Horde control, he had his own opinions about Horde expansion and they were not ‘all fine and good’. Out loud he said, “Sounds like you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“And that’s not even counting the mountain of paperwork that was waiting for me on my desk when we got back from Eternia!” Hec-Tor added. “I’ll be sorting through that for another week, at least!”

Keldor wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, it meant he wouldn’t have to see Hec-Tor much for another week. Except for when they crossed paths in the shared spaces of their suite –like right now. On the other hand, it also meant that he would have no one to talk to for another week. Keldor didn’t quite know which was more important to him at the moment. Avoiding his unwanted husband, or companionship. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t had much time together.” Hec-Tor blurted out clumsily, but sounding earnest. It made Keldor wonder if that was something he’d been thinking about for some time. Hec-Tor sat up, pulling out of Keldor’s hands and readjusting his position on the sofa so they could sit face to face. He reached a hand out, as if to caress Keldor’s face, but got nervous and changed his mind at the last moment, and took the other man’s hand instead. “I’m sorry I’ve been too tired to… give you more attention.”

Staring at his dusky blue hand held in Hec-Tor’s steely blue-gray one, it took Keldor way, way too long to realize what his husband meant when he said ‘more attention’. “Well, I uh-“ Keldor stammered. They had not slept together again since their wedding night. “That’s not necessary. Your work is important, and I’m self-sufficient. I have two hands, and an imagination.”

And he really, really, really did not want to have to have sex with the space bat again. 

There was the beat of a pause and for half a moment, Keldor thought Hec-Tor was about to invite him to his bedroom for the night. He began drafting up a list of excuses. ‘I’m tired too’, ‘I’m not in the mood right now’, ‘I just checked out all these datacards from the library and I really wanna read them all tonight in one sitting like a masochist!’, ‘would you rather hear a four-hour lecture on how the term “virgin-blood” actually refers to the blood of a person who’s blood has never been used for magic before, and not a sexual virgin at all?’ (That last one had always been the most successful turn-off on all of Eternia.) 

But all Hec-Tor did was place a chase kiss to Keldor’s forehead. “I would like to make love to you again.” He confessed. “But tonight, I’m afraid I would be a poor performance.”

“That’s fine.” Keldor assured him. Any night the space bat did not wanna get down and dirty with him was absolutely fine. Keldor was okay with that. Yeah, he liked sex. But if the choices were sex with a sickly space bat or celibacy, Keldor would be celibate. 

Some of the greatest sorcerers in history were celibate. 

Hec-Tor stood back up from the sofa and went to his own room alone. 

Keldor didn’t know he was holding his breath until he let it out in a relived sigh. 

…

Keldor could not stay inside reading all day. 

He could not.

He could not take one more day reclining on a silk pillow, like some pampered house pet! He needed to get outside. Even for just an hour. Keldor had not spent this much time indoors being taken care since he had a childhood illness. 

What kind of rulers did not walk among their people? 

Even if Keldor never snuck out of the castle a day in his life, the royal family on Eternia were still regular faces among the crowds of Eternos. The museums, theaters, music halls, the higher-class merchant quarter, the harbor –Stephen had to be dragged away from the water some days. Keldor had never imagined a royal family that lived so cut off from their own people. Not just their Empire, but just the city they lived in. 

Keldor couldn’t stand it. 

If he could not find a door out, he was just having to think creatively. There was no ground access he could go through without being stopped by the most obnoxiously polite guards in existence. But the Imperial palace still had roofs. 

Finding the tallest roof that he could access, Keldor glared up at the shieldwall. It was a massive monstrosity of technology and ingenuity. The shieldwall encircles the whole city, not just the Imperial palace, and protected it from the harsh sandstorms (rock storms) that frequently tore up the landscape outside. Keldor had been living on Horde World for a little over a week now, and in that time, four such storms had beat against the wall. 

There was still quite a bit of space between the roof he was on and the shieldwall. A gap wider than Keldor’s best long-jump. It would definitely take a combination of muscle and magic to get to the wall. Probably a combination of muscle and magic to climb it too. 

But at the top of the wall, was a path that ran the whole circumference, and it was open to the public. It was a common attraction that visitors of Horde World liked to see before they left. Ride bikes around the city, or see how many of their species could stand shoulder to shoulder (or equivalent) across the wall. If Keldor could just get to the top of the wall, he could walk to anywhere in the city he wanted. 

Walking to the opposite end of the roof, he got a running start, and launched himself at the wall. Casting spells for Levitation and Push (a combination that made the equivalent of Flight, but actually used less magic than casting Flight), Keldor reached the wall. 

Decades standing up to the harsh storms of Horde World left the shieldwall battered and dented –even on the interior of the wall- and Keldor found hand and foot holds easily. He managed to climb several meters before he muscles began to burn with the strain. He cast spells for Endurance, Strength, and Lightness. He managed to climb several meters more before he chose a bad handhold. 

A panel, bent and loosened by years of abuse and lack of repair. The moment Keldor let the majority of his weight rest on his, the panel slid loose and fell out of place. 

And Keldor fell with it. 

He had to do some quick casting to stop his fall before he went splat. Casting Levitation again, then Push to fly back up to the roof. 

The loose handhold was just a simple miscalculation. He could still make it up. He just needed to try again. 

Except the roof was no longer empty when he landed back on it. 

Someone had erected a small picnic table, with an awning to shield them from the sun, and two chairs. Already sitting in one of the chairs was Par-Is. She sipped daintily at a cup of iced tea. 

“Please, don’t mind me.” She told him. “Continue.”

A clone came up with a tray of triangle-cut cucumber sandwiches and set it down for the Empress. A second clone passed her a little ceramic ramekin, Keldor recognized as the kind that Hec-Tor was served his medication in. 

He just continued to stare at her, watching her tip the pills into her mouth, and wondering what she was doing up here and what she wanted from him. Keldor remembered her call to Hec-Tor before they even arrived on Horde World, voice thick from sobbing and tight with desperation. ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore!’ If he did manage to get out of the palace, did she want him to take her with him…?

“I’m coming back.” He told her. If Keldor absconded from his marriage, he didn’t know how the Horde would retaliate against Eternia. “I just need to get out for a bit.”

Her eyes slowly trailed up the wall. Agonizingly slowly. Very clearly meaning to draw attention to how tall and difficult to climb it was. “Seems like an awful lot of work.” 

Keldor quickly decided she had nothing to contribute, but it didn’t seem like she was going to stop him either. She was just enjoying her snacks, and her tea… and the show. He walked to the opposite edge of the roof again. Got a running start again. Jumped. Used his magic to propel him the last bit of the stretch he couldn’t make on his own. Started to climb. 

Ran into a different problematic foothold and fell. 

Caught himself. Flew back to the roof. 

Started over. 

“If you can use magic to keep yourself from falling, why don’t you use magic to fly all the way up?” Asked Par-Is. 

He was about to start another long-jump and had to pause in irritation. People who lived without magic did not seem to understand magic. “You can run, I assume.”

“Of course.” She nodded, tone curious where he was going with this. As if she actually wanted to learn, and wasn’t just taunting him. 

“Why don’t you run all the time?” He asked. “Instead of walking. It would get you where you want to go a lot faster.”

“Obviously, I’d exhaust myself very quickly.” Par-Is answered. 

“Magic is like that.” Keldor told her. “It’s not a source of infinite energy. It’s a tool that makes thing easier. But it’s still limited by the magic user’s own mana and stamina.”

Par-Is seemed to consider that, seriously consider it. Then she gestured to the pitcher of tea and sandwich trey. “You do look tired. Why don’t you sit down and have some lavender-mint tea and snacks.”

Keldor would be lying if he didn’t admit that a cold drink did sound appealing. Horde World was so very, very, very hot on its own, and he had been running, and climbing, and falling, and casting for hours. Swallowing some pride, he took the second seat at the table. 

A clone was at the ready, pouring him a glass of the iced tea. 

He didn’t realize just how exhausted he really was until he felt the cool tea slide down his throat. Keldor visibly relaxed. He still wanted to get out of the palace, but he also wanted to take a break. 

Par-Is pushed the trey of sandwiches closer to him. “Eat something. If magic is like stamina, you’ll need the calories.” She said this in a tone that implied people were constantly reminding her to ‘eat something, you need your strength’. 

Keldor selected a sandwich off the trey. The bread and fatty cream cheese were exactly what he needed. And the cucumber in the middle was cool and refreshing, but still crunchy. A perfect snack for after a strenuous workout. For half a moment, Keldor allowed himself to pretend he was back on Eternia, taking a break from the training circle, enjoying a snack while Man-at-Arms put Stephan or Randor through their paces instead. 

Gosh, he never thought he might actually miss spoiled little Randor, father’s favorite. 

After his third sandwich, Par-Is rested an elbow on the table and leaned forward. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

He would have thought that was obvious. “You know I do.”

Raising her other hand, Par-Is snapped her fingers. Two clones appeared at her side, ready to fulfill her new command. “Prepare the palanquin.” She said. “The Prince and I will be going out.”

The two clones bowed silently and left to fulfill her request. 

“That’s all you had to do.” She said to Keldor. “But it was fun watching you run around like a damsel in some gothic romance novel.” Par-Is stood and stretched. “Now, I suggest you bath before we leave. You do not smell like a Prince. And you might wanna put some clothes on.”

Keldor looked down at his Eternian loincloth and bare chest. “These are clothes.”

She flashed him another smile. An identical smile to the one she gave him when she said he looked better without bedhead. A teasing smile, full of humor and crimson teeth. “Where’s the rest of them?”

He frowned at her, not amused. 

Par-Is laughed. “I’ll have something brought for you. Something much more princely and appropriate. But in the future, you should consider having the tailors make you something that looks a little more Imperial and a little less… like a captured savage.”

“I’ll have you know that Eternia is one of the most-!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure Eternia is wonderful.” Par-Is cut him off. “But you’re not on Eternia now. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘when on Horde World, do as the Horde do’.”

…

Keldor did bath, and brush his hair, and change his clothes. But he still put on an Eternian loincloth and belts. But a formal loincloth and belts this time. Boiled leather that was polished to a satiny shine and dyed lavender, inlayed with silver threading and silver studs. The cool colors complemented the dusky blue tones of his skin. He, at least, thought he looked very nice. 

A clone was waiting for him with something to wear when he joined Par-Is. The clone helped him into it, and smoothed out any creases or wrinkles.

It was not a shapeless garment, but it did seem tailored to fit a variety of body types. Sort of a ‘one size fits most’ deal. 

A light linen fabric, dyed the Imperial shade of electric green. It was sleeveless, and the arm holes were cut long, extending partway down his ribs. It was long, probably meant for a taller person, it hung all the way down to his ankles, the hem in the back almost dragging on the floor. It was probably also meant for someone a lot thinner than him, because the fabric stretched over his back, and the panels did not come together to close all the way in the front. A good ten centimeters of his chest was still exposed. Keldor was sure it was meant to be a type of robe or gown. But, on him, it fit more like a hooded vest. 

Par-Is walked a circle around him, scrutinizing his appearance. Finally, she deemed him presentable enough to be seen with her. 

They climbed into the palanquin, which was carried by four clones, and, for the first time in weeks, Keldor got outside of the palace. 

It was not the kind of ‘outside’ that he wanted. Not really. 

He was riding an Imperial palanquin, wearing Imperial colors (green and white), and in the company of the Empress. He was not free to wander the city. Talk to the common folk. Find a bar, and have a drink. Gosh, Keldor missed alcohol! Nobody in Imperial royal family drank. They didn’t drink, they didn’t smoke, the only ‘drugs’ any of them took were their prescribed medications. It was like living with a bunch of monks!

Except, on Eternia, even monks still drank from time to time. 

Par-Is directed them to a tall building with uniform windows going all the way up. From the outside it looked like some kind of apartment building, or more likely an office of shorts since none of the units had external balconies or terraces. 

On the inside, it turned out to be a boarding house of some kind. 

Occupied almost entirely by children, with only a few adults to oversee them. Some kind of orphanage?

“Oh, no, orphans are people who don’t have parents.” Keldor didn’t realize he’d asked that out loud until Par-Is was already answering his question. “These are the children of enlisted soldiers in the Horde military. Their service keeps them far away from long stretches of time, and so the Empire cares for their children while they’re away.” Then, in a lower voice she added, “The orphans come later.”

Seeing her in the entryway, a gaggle of children rushed up to greet her. Smiles on their faces, hands (or equivalent limbs) outstretched. 

Their clone guards closed in around them, forming a tight circle between the children and the Empress and Keldor. Clones, apparently, could not tell the difference between ‘innocent children’ and ‘hostile mob’. 

But Par-Is laughed, pushing the clone directly in front of her to the side. “Let them through. I think I can take ‘em.”

If Par-Is was as frail as Hec-Tor, Keldor believe she could be killed by a tight hat, and in fact, could not ‘take ‘em’.

Par-Is knelt down in front of the closest child, whom presented her with a wet paper that looked like it might have been a watercolor painting, but was now smeared and dripping. “Horde Prima, Horde Prima, we were painting today!”

“How wonderful!” And the smile she gave the child was almost real. “Such attention to detail.” The painting looked like a yellow and orange smear. It might have been a landscape of the desert, or is might have been a sliced mango. Who could say. There certainly wasn’t any ‘detail’ to it. “I can already tell you’re going to be a great officer one day.”

“You really think so?” Asked the child. 

She continued on like that for some time. Giving attention to any child that had the initiative to push their way through the others and demand her attention. She smiled at them, and praised whatever projects or creations they showed her. Gushed over their favored toys, or cooed at their skinned knees or elbows (or equivalent joints). 

When she had enough of children climbing over each other to get her attention, she turned her focus to the adults. Asking about headcounts and beds, budgets and spending, how many parents were continuing to make payments to the boarding house, how many children had to be transferred to the actual orphanage because their parents were killed or lost in the line to duty. Business stuff. And when that was done, she had her clones bring in three storage chests for the boarding house. 

The children got even more excited when they saw the chests. They were filled with new toys, action figures and stuffed animals, board games and computer games (both of which focused on strategy), sports equipment, and toy weapons that only shot harmless foam. The children pounced on the new things eagerly. 

With the children distracted, Par-Is made her exit, dragging Keldor along with her. 

They climbed back into the palanquin and were carried to an entirely different part of the city. 

Here was the less reputable side of the city Keldor wanted to see. 

There atmosphere buffers were not as well maintained and it was hotter. The sun beat down on the street, baking the pavement, and Keldor could see heat waves rising off of the asphalt. A number of the clones’ boots sizzled when they set their feet down, and the soles of their shoes softened almost melting. The buildings were closer together, the streets narrower. The people looked meaner, and less pleased to see a royal palanquin passing through their streets. The clones tightened their formation around the poll bearers and Keldor wondered if he should have brought his swords with him on this excursion. 

Finally, they stopped outside of a building that did look very well maintained compared to those surrounding it. Another tall structure with uniform windows, like the first one. 

This time, the children were not quite so pleased to see the Empress when she entered. They looked up at the new adult in the room with caution, or even outright suspicion. 

It was the adults who approached her first. Bowing low to show their respect. “We are honored by your visit, Horde Prima.”

“I wish I could visit more.” She offered a look of sympathy that was almost real. 

The adults gathered all the children in the orphanage cafeteria. 

Par-Is’ strategy for dealing with these children was different from the boarding house before. At the boarding house, she only showed attention to those who didn’t just want it, but fought for it. Climbing over each other, or shoving other children out of the way to get to her. Here with the orphans, she did the complete opposite, seeking out the quietest, most withdrawn children to talk to. They did not all open up to her, but some did. 

One girl told Par-Is about her mother whom was an enlisted soldier in the military that was killed in battle. Par-Is listened to her story with a nothing but sympathy on her face. 

“You should be proud of your mother.” Said the Empress when the girl was done. “The Horde could use more officers like her.”

The child looked down, avoiding eye-contact. “Begging your pardon, ma’am –Your Grace!- but she wasn’t an officer, just an enlisted soldier.”

Reaching out a taloned hand, Par-Is stroked the child’s face, lifting their chin to look at her. “An enlisted soldier is just an officer that hasn’t been prompted yet.” She stood and addressed all of the children gathered in the room. “All of you, your parents fought bravely for our Empire and for you. We honor them and we’re going to take care of you.”

More chest with gifts for the children were brought in by the clones. Only instead of toys, these were basic necessities. Clean clothes and new bedding. New shoes. Curtains for the windows. Non-perishable foodstuffs and vitamin supplements. But the children seemed just as happy to see these new basic things as the children from the previous boarding house were to see the toys. 

A small gaggled of children saw them off, tugging on the Empress’ skirts as she climbed back into the palanquin, until the clone guards forced them to let go and move away. 

Keldor waited until they were moving again before commenting, “I gotta say, you are not at all what I expected a Horde Empress to be like.” 

She flashed him another teasing smile. “How’s that?”

“I expected you to me more like Prime.” He confessed. Imperious, severe, little regard for even his equals (or, rather those as close to his ‘equals’ as there was). “But you’re so… nurturing…”

She laughed. 

As if that were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. 

She laughed so hard, it degraded into wheezes and a clone reached a taloned hand between the hangings to offer her an inhaler. 

Catching her breath on her own, Par-Is pushed away the offered inhaler. “You think I’m nurturing?” Then she paused to think for a moment. “Hm, yes, I suppose I am, but I’m not nurturing the thing you think I am.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, now genuinely curious. What was she nurturing if not the children and orphans of her Empire?

Par-Is leaned in close to him, whispering so that only he could hear and there was no chance of being overhead through he hangings of the palanquin. “You think I give two shits about those dirty little urchins?” She asked. “I don’t. I don’t even like children. They’re loud, and dirty, and require more care than any one single person is able to give. Children are awful!” She paused to make sure he was following her. “But children grow up. And if children grow up thinking their rules care about them, and are taking care of them, those adults will be indebted to the Horde. Those adults will enlist in the Horde. Those adults will fight and die for the Horde. It’s not the children I’m nurturing, Keldor, it’s my own Empire’s interests.”

He stared at her, finding a new understanding of his sister-in-law. She had a quality about her that actually reminded him a lot of his mother. “You’re rather two-faced.”

She flashed him that same teasing smile. “And you’re not?”

“What do you mean?”

Par-Is held his gaze for a moment longer. Not quite a glare, not quite a challenge, more… calculating and appraising. “Hec-Tor is quite taken with you. I might even go so far as to say he’s in love with you, although your marriage is still new, that could fizzle out with time. At the very least he is infatuated with you.”

Already, Keldor did not like where she was going with this. “And?”

“You do not give two shits about my brother.” She announced. 

Keldor looked away, actually feeling bad for half a moment. Then her hypocrisy struck him and he looked back up at her to argue. “Oh, like you’re so in love with Horde Prime.”

“Anillis is a monster, even Mother didn’t love him.” She brushed off the comment. “I don’t care about Anillis’ feelings because I already know he has none. But I care about Hec-Tor. He might act strong, hiding behind his Academy training and court protocol. But underneath the strict and disciplined veneer, he’s just a soft boy who wants to be loved.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Keldor said nothing. 

“Hec-Tor’s not good with expressing himself.” Par-Is continued without prompting. “He doesn’t know how to articulate his feelings. But I know what he wants. He just wants to be loved, and he wants to be happy.” She paused, flicking her hair over one shoulder and fanning at her neck with a silk fan. “What do you want, Prince Keldor?”

He looked back up at her. That question was not how he expected her statements to end. He was expecting some long-winded speech about how he should try to love Hec-Tor because he was his husband and like it or not, they were married now and there was no escaping from that except maybe by death. 

But she didn’t tell him he should love Hec-Tor. Her own marriage was loveless and she knew that telling a person to love a partner they did not want was pointless. Instead, she asked him what he wanted. She was searching for a compromise. 

“I want…” He began, suddenly unsure of his own feelings. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his brothers again. He wanted to punch his father in the face for removing him from the line of succession. “I want to be the ruler of Eternia.” 

“Just Eternia?” Par-Is asked. “Why not the Known Universe?”

“The Known Universe already has a ruler and I am not in his line of succession.” Keldor pointed out. 

“No.” Par-Is agreed. “No, you are not. But your husband is.” She paused to make sure he was following her. “And we’ve just established that your husband is a soft boy, he would not do well as Emperor of the Known Universe,” a pause, “unless he had a partner who was strong and could help him rule.”

Keldor blinked at her. That was not what he was expecting her to suggest. That was not what he was expecting her to suggest at all! 

She napped her fan shut, a loud punctuation to her next statement. “Of course, for you to be able to control Hec-Tor, you would have to keep him happy. Convince him that you love him back. Be tender, and gentle, and affectionate. Give him all the perceived love he craves but doesn’t know how to ask for. You may never love my brother, but you don’t have to love a person to perform the motions of being in love.”

Keldor just continued to stare at her. 

So, Par-Is compounded on her proposal. “Why settle for just being a king, when you can be the king?”


	15. An Intimate Dinner

Entrapta claimed a cargo bay as her lab aboard Monstron. 

Originally, it had been where several kilograms of food were stored. But they were several weeks into their journey from Horde World now and the food stores had been depleted enough that what was left in the cargo hold could be moved to a different one to make space for the Princess. 

It was dimly lit when Hec-Tor entered. 

She had made a makeshift work table by pushing several empty crates together and threw a metal panel cannibalized from Nordor over it. Entrapta was laying out and cataloguing all of the adaptations she salvaged from the mutants. Tagging each one with a number, and narrating into a recorder the number and a description of the sample. Taking notes for further study later. 

When she first crashed through the ceiling on top of him back at the Imperial palace on Horde World, Hec-Tor thought she was objectively insane, and a hazard. But after their success at Nordor, a success that was almost entirely due to her plan, Hec-Tor realized she was not an insane hazard, she was an eccentric genius. When Brother arranged the marriage, he was negotiating for free (or close to free) weapons, did he know how much of an asset Entrapta herself was? She was brilliant! 

Hec-Tor was impressed.

But, he wasn’t exactly sure how to show his appreciation. 

He was about to clear his throat to let her know he was there. It was dark in the lab, and he hadn’t made much noise when he came in. But before he could open his mouth, she switched off her recorder and turned to him. Apparently, she already knew he was there. 

Entrapta was also much more aware of her surroundings than she let on. She smiled up at him. “Aren’t they fascinating!”

He did not have an opinion of the mutants adaptations. “I… confess, it is not an area of study for me.”

For a moment, Entrapta looked confused. “Really? Well it should be! Think about how we could improve your prosthetic armor by studying the mutants’ adaptive prosthetics! You could change the function of your armor from just holding your body together and concealing your condition, to functioning as a part of your body and letting you thrive!” 

That- …did sound appealing to him. Hec-Tor had to admit. 

But that wasn’t what he came to her lab to ask. He did clear his throat this time, feeling suddenly and inexplicably nervous. “You did well at Nordor.” He began. “You preformed calm under fire and completed your task. We would not have been able to take the base so easily were it not for your plan and swift decisive execution of it.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, then turned back to examining the samples she collected from the mutants. 

But that, also, was not what Hec-Tor came to her lab to say. “I-“ He began again. Paused. Cleared his throat a second time. Readjusted his posture and pose. Making sure his back was straight, his shoulders were back, his hands were clasped, and his feet were parted slightly. A perfect military parade rest. It was always easier to talk to people when he could speak from a pose of practiced discipline. “I have had the ship’s galley staff prepare a meal for us. It will be served in the observation lounge just off of our quarters.”

She turned her attention away from her samples to look at him. 

“I have instructed the chefs to make the portions as small as possible.” He added. 

“Thanks.” She said. “That’s really nice. There are just a few things I still wanna do here.” She gestured with her hair to the body parts laid out over her table. “I’ll eat when I’m hungry.”

Hec-Tor noted back on Horde World before they were even married that Entrapta was the kind of person that could not notice they were hungry and go without eating if they were fully engrossed in a project. So, he added, “I would be pleased if you joined me for dinner.”

“Oh, you wanna have dinner with me!” She repeated, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that was implied by his first statement. 

He gave special instructions to the staff to make a meal for just the two of them. To have it served in a comfortable setting outside the noisy Mess. And took pains to make sure the food would be tiny to cater to her eating habits. But in Entrapta’s mind, that did not mean he wanted to have this special dinner tailored to her, with her. Because that was not what he initially said at first. He just said he had it prepared. He needed to be more clear. 

Entrapta told him very early on that she wasn’t very good with getting along with people. She didn’t understand people. Hec-Tor had to be more clear and state what he meant outright. 

“Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.” He nodded, shoulders slumping a little because he felt some awkward. He never really had to put forth any of the work in a relationship before. Keldor had always just taken him by the hand and lead him through the steps. “That is, assuming you would like to have dinner with me.”

“That sounds great!” Entrapta did a mid-air summersault with her hair as a pivot and before Hec-Tor knew it, she was at his side. 

…

It was a little more intimately set up than Hec-Tor initially envisioned when he gave orders for the private dinner to be arranged. 

The table was smaller than he expected, which would force him and Entrapta to sit closer together. Someone had re-set the lights in the lounge to be dimmer than standard, and had placed a battery powered flameless candle in the center of the table. Just a few details, and small ones. But they came together to turn the setting from ‘formal dinner between two successful leaders’ to… ‘romantic’.

But Entrapta seemed not to notice. Or, if she did notice, then she appeared unaffected by it. 

She sat on her side of the table, happily eating the tiny, bite-sized portions, and sipping at her fizzy drink, in between telling him of all the innovations she planned to make using the prosthetics and adaptations she collected from the mutants. 

“I can make bots that are so much more articulated and versatile than the simpler spider-legged spheres I’ve been producing thus far.” Using her hair, she selected another tiny morsel from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Just imagine it! Bots that can use small tools or fine-tuned instruments. Bots that can pilot ships, or dismantle bombs. We might never have to use living soldiers again!”

Brother would love that. Bots that were just as versatile as clones, could be manufactures as quickly, and in bulk like clones. But did not require air to function. Did not require food to function. Did not need to excrete waste. Were not ‘alive’ and did not require the same level of care as a living being. No wonder Brother wanted Entrapta in the family so much. 

“I could improve your armor too.” She added. 

Entrapta said as much back in her lab, and the idea did appeal to Hec-Tor. But he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable enough around Entrapta to allow her to learn the intricacies of his prosthetics and armor. Even Keldor did not ask about his armor until they had been married a while, and even then, only because he had started accompanying Hec-Tor on some military strikes and felt he would need the information if an emergency ever befell the ship. 

That was one of the things that Hec-Tor loved about his first spouse. Keldor respected his privacy and did not push his boundaries. He did not demand intimate details or intimate information that Hec-Tor was not yet ready to share. He was patient, and understanding, and empathetic, and caring. If he did ask about something outright, it was usually something he felt he needed to know. 

“When we get back to Dryl, I’ll show you my lab and I’ll start taking your armor apart!” She smiled at him as if that were the best idea ever. 

Entrapta, it seemed, was not like Keldor. 

“You will not.” He told her. “My armor is sufficient as it is, and if it requires repair or improvement, I am capable of completing it myself.”

“But’s it’s so bulky!” Entrpata argued. “The weight distribution is off balanced and some of the tubes and cabling are visible on the outside and exposed to the elements! It’s inefficient and easily susceptible to damage! I already have a few ideas for new designs, I just need a little more time with the Nordor samples, and to take a look at what I have back at my lab, and I can make you new armor.”

He frowned at her, suppressing the urge to growl. He told her no. 

“I’m thinking thinner cabling, but more of it.” She continued, seemingly oblivious to his silent disapproval. “It’s be less bulky but still be able to perform the same function, and it could fit under an exterior shell. More like an exoskeleton than armor. That was, the tubes and cabling are just as protected as your physical body. It would also allow for a more streamline design. A smoother plating that lighter or grazing blows could just slide off of.”

“Your task is not to play with my own body armor.” He reminded her. “My Brother entered into this alliance with you because you promised him weapons for his armies. That is your task. My armor is my own and I shall maintain and update it. You will not allow my projects to distract you from yours.”

Entrapta looked down at her plate, visibly disappointed. 

Hec-Tor regretted the harshness and the finality of his tone. In truth, the improvements she mentioned did sound interesting to him. But he was uncomfortable allowing himself to be as vulnerable as he would have to be to allow her to take his armor off him, take it apart and trust her to build something new. It was not that he didn’t think she could improve his armor and prosthetics. It was that he didn’t know her very well and was scared of being hurt. 

He cleared his throat. “But perhaps once my staff has settled into Dryl, and some consistency of shipments to Horde World has been established… we can revisit this conversation.”

Entrapta perked up. She was not very good at understanding people as a general rule. But, to her, it sounded like he was not saying ‘no’ to her improving his armor, he was saying ‘not yet’. Entrapta could work with that. She understood that some experiments took time. Results did not present themselves right away. A good scientist had to be patient. 

“I’d like that.” She finally said. Then took a loud sip of her fizzy drink that quickly turned into loud rolling slurps as the beverage was drained. 

Hec-Tor ate another tiny morsel of food, then another. The portions were so much smaller than what he was used to. He hadn’t yet eaten enough to be able to take his meds. The ceramic ramekin sat next to his plate untouched. Maybe another serving and he would have enough in his stomach to be able to force them down on top of it. 

Swallowing his last bite and allowing a clone to collect the now empty plate, Hec-Tor cleared his throat. “But I do not want to argue.” He said. “This dinner is actually to celebrate! You did excellent work on Nordor.”

“You said that already.” She pointed out. 

And Hec-Tor remembered he had. In her makeshift lab in the cargo hold when he invited her to dinner. He felt his cheeks color a bit, not quite knowing what else to say. She had done excellent work on Nordor. He was pleased with the results and appreciative of her contributions. She really was a powerful ally. Not just powerful in industry, but powerful in tactics and ingenuity. He just didn’t know how else to say it. “Well, you did so well that I needed to say it twice.”

“Thanks!” She was suddenly all smiles again. Then burped loudly, because she drained her fizzy drink so fast and the carbonation made her gassy. “Any time you want help like that, just ask. I love solving things! Asking questions and solving problems is one of the reasons I became a scientist. Science is all about finding answers!” 

Hec-Tor rested his elbows on the table. “I just might.” He told her. “Ask you to consult on military matters again.”

Keldor provided him with some interesting military council. So could Entrapta. 

They didn’t know each other very well, but working together collaboratively could help them to gain a better understanding of each other. 

Hec-Tor did not love her, but he could grow to be her friend. Not everyone could fall in love with who they married.


	16. Arrival at the Crypto Castle

Arriving at Etheria was slightly less chaotic than leaving Horde World. But only slightly. 

Monstron was too large to land on a planet. They had to place the ship in a stationary orbit around it. Which in and of itself was a difficult bit of calculating, since they didn’t want to have to keep correcting for every lunar orbit they might cross paths with. Etheria had twelve moons. Most of the stable orbits were already taken. 

That was just taking care of the ship. 

The Princess’ ship and the Prince’s own shuttle were packed with the royal couple’s personal effects, as well as all the souvenirs the Princess had acquired on their journey. The mutants’ body parts lone took up most of the shuttle’s cargo bay. 

Entrapta was energetic but scatterbrained. Bouncing from one end of Monstron to the other. Making sure everyone she encountered knew just how excited she was to start work in her lab with the new resources the Empire had placed at her disposal. 

Imp was a disruptive and disobedient mess. Every officer he was given to for supervision became frustrated and exasperated, their carful and disciplined Horde Academy training cracking and breaking under the child’s wordless tantrums and screeches. Only the clones seemed able to withstand Imp’s behavior without breaking. But the clones were barely better than dolls and could not think creatively. Imp escaped and evaded them too easily. 

Hec-Tor had the absolute worst headache. 

Catra, with the help of Scorpia managed to herd Entrapta into her ship. Hec-Tor had to take over management of his son himself and delegate all of his own tasks to his lieutenants, Grizzlor and Mantenna. 

Finally, the royal couple and the Princess’ entourage made it onto the ship and were on their way down to Dryl. 

Monstron would be manned by a skeleton crew of clone units. The enlisted would beam down to Dryl once the ship was settled and running smoothly. 

Grizzlor and Mantenna went over the Prince’s study and quarters with a fine toothed comb to make sure nobody forgot anything. 

Mantenna picked up a broken piece of one of Prince Imp’s toys. The room was littered with broken pieces of toys. It looked like the arm of a hard acrylic action figure. Mantenna wasn’t sure. He tossed it in a small storage box anyway. Who knew, it just might be a vital piece of the child’s very favorite toy and he might throw a tantrum until it was reunited with the rest of the figure and repaired. One could never be sure with children. Even children who could communicate verbally were mercurial at best. 

In the adjoining room, Grizzlor was doing his final sweep of Hec-Tor and the Princess’ shared room. Making sure none of them had left anything behind. Hec-Tor was usually quite fastidious, so he was not expecting to find anything of his. But Entrapta was decidedly less disciplined and did not keep as good track of her items that were not directly related to her scientific experiments and projects. 

Grizzlor found several body products and grooming tools in the shared bathroom, a number of discarded pairs of ladies’ undergarments, an entire drawer of the Princess’ overalls, and one sad lonely sock. He checked the harder to reach areas of the floor searching for the poor sock’s mate. The seam between the bed and floor panels, and the gap between the bedside table and the bed. 

He did not find a lost sock in the gap between the table and the bed, but he did find a datacard. 

Picking it up, Grizzlor was surprised to find it labeled as one of the ones on the now-cancelled search for Keldor. It was one of the older ones. Dated around the time he noticed the Prince had stopped reading them. Grizzlor didn’t know if Hec-Tor had read this one or not, but if he took it with him from Horde World –saving it from being scrubbed- then he definitely wanted it. 

Grizzlor made a special point to take the datacard with him. He would return it to Hec-Tor once the Prince was settled. 

…

It was raining when the ship and the shuttle landed in Dryl. 

The whole region was tall mountains and jagged rocks. The landing cradles for space vessels had to be constructed hanging from cliffs, like the nests of birds of prey. From afar, they looked like silvery-gray nets, jutting out from the rock face. Up close they were a layered series of interlocking steel bands. They were set in rails so that when a ship docked in the cradle, it slid into a hangar inside the mountain. 

The rain did not make the docking process any more difficult. Rain was a common enough occurrence in Dryl that the designers and the builders took it into account when making their spaceport. But the rain did make everything uncomfortably wet. 

It sloshed when the rails brought the ship and the shuttle inside, splashing on the hanger floor and forming puddles where the cavestone was uneven. The rain beat down outside, and Hec-Tor stepped out onto a we floor when the gangplank lowered. 

He lifted the hem of his gown to keep it from getting waterlogged.

Imp came flying out after him and dive-bombed the first puddle he saw, kicking the water with his feet, splashing with his wings, and complexly soaking his father from head to toe. 

Hec-Tor growled wordlessly and glared at his son. Imp just smiled up at his father, silently letting him know this was vengeance for keeping him cooped up in a tiny room for almost the entire voyage. 

He might have reprimanded the toddler, had Entrapta not come tumbling down the gangplank. Smiling from ear to ear and laughing in a way that Hec-Tor was not going to call ‘maniacal’. She intertwined her hair around both of them, sweeping Hec-Tor and his son off their feet and whisking them away. 

“I can’t wait to show you the castle!” She exclaimed. 

There were no formations of soldiers lined up for the Prince’s arrival. No fanfare, no pomp, no pageantry. Just Entrapta and her hair carrying them down the mountain from the space port to the castle below. 

The Crypto Castle was on a cliff ledge of its own. 

The whole castle balanced on an outcropping from the cliff face, and held up with extra support pillars underneath the rock. A wide wall encircling the building, with a pair of double doors in an arch. The castle itself looked a little cobbled together with little planning. A tall spite just off center, with a shorter platform next to it with a glowing orb perched on top. Most of the castle was just short stound little structures, interconnected with passages of dark violet stone. 

Entrapta did not take a passage, or pathway, or anything resembling an established rout down to the castle from the space port. She just swung them down the open cliff face of the mountain, holding them in her hair, and used a catwalk that connected the tallest spire to the cliff wall. 

Hec-Tor experienced a small heart attack the whole way down. 

Imp loved everyone moment of it, giggling and shrieking with glee as the wind whipped his hair. He was gonna love flying in these mountains so much. (Assuming he could get away from Dad long enough.)

Hec-Tor latched onto the first solid –smooth and clearly not natural cliff- wall he could reach after Entrapta set his feet down on the ground. Leaning on it for support as he clutched at his chest, talons scraping against his armor and fingers bunching up the fabric of his gown. He breathed heavily, trying to come down from what was definitely a panic. 

“Are you tired already?” Entrapta asked, completely misinterpreting his body language. “Do you need to take a nap before we continue? I can show you to your room. But I really should put the tracker app on your datapad before you start walking around on your own.”

Still breathing a little heavy, Hec-Tor turned his head to look at her. She was on her hair, using it to raise herself up to be closer to his face, and looking at him with mild sympathy. She also understood the need to take a nap on account of over-stimulation. 

He remembered her telling him that this castle had lots of secret passages and crawlspaces that Imp could hide in and get lost in. If Imp was going to be exploring this place, then Hec-Tor wanted to ability to be able to find his son no matter where he was. He did not want a repeat of the week before his wedding to Entrapta when Imp got stuck in the wall and Hec-Tor was unable to get to him. 

“No. If there is business that needs to be taken care of before we rest, then we’ll get it done.” He told her. Hec-Tor straightened his back, reassuming his straight posture, looking at if he had not just been leaning against a wall, feeling panicked and faint from excitement. 

“Okay, the software is in my lab.” She was about to take off down the corridor, but paused, then wrapped a tendril of hair around Hec-Tor’s and Imp’s wrists. “Since you don’t have trackers, you should probably stick close to me. It’s easy to get lost.”

Entrapta lead them down a series of corridors, and turns, and switch backs that Hec-Tor could not follow and was sure he would never be able to navigate on his own. He was also pretty sure they past the same painting twice.

Finally, Entrapta typed in a code on a keypad on the wall and a door slid open. 

All three of them stepped into the lab. 

It was darker in the lab than the rest of the castle. The Crypto Castle was dimly lit as it was, but Entrapta’s lab was even dimmer. It got brighter when she booted up a series of computers against the far wall. Their multiple monitors lighting the room. 

Lining the walls on either side were various robotic prototypes in varying stages of assembly. 

Still holding onto Imp and Hec-Tor with her hair, she pulled them closer to the computer array. “It’s over here. Do you have your datapad on you?”

Hec-Tor pulled it out and passed it to her. He felt a stab of embarrassment when he unlocked it for her. 

His lock screen was perfectly fine. Innocent and wholesome. A photo of Imp playing in the dirt of an empty planter in the Imperial gardens. He was looking up, smiling at the camera. A real smile. It was so hard to get good pictures of Imp smiling. Any time a –nice- photograph of him was staged, he always put on a long-suffering grin. Just a stretching of his cheeks to expose his teeth, sharp and pointed like Hec-Tor’s but white in color like Keldor’s. He didn’t look happy in formally staged photos. But playing in the dirt, a streak of mud on one cheek, his clothing smeared, Imp could give a real smile. 

The picture Hec-Tor had as the background of his home screen, however, was not quite so wholesome. 

It was a photo of Keldor. Wearing only an Eternian style loincloth in black leather and a pair of belts crossed over his chest. He was reclining on the sofa in their sitting room, thighs spread, one hand running through his ebony hair. His eyes fixed on the camera, lips slightly parted. A sultry, seductive expression. 

But Entratpa did not comment. She didn’t even pause. Almost as if she didn’t notice just how… provocative his home screen image was. 

She plugged a cable into her computer, and then into his datapad and began a download. Every now and again the screen would go dim, and she would tap it to make sure it didn’t go to sleep. Every time she did, Hec-Tor was afraid she was going to make a comment about his home screen. 

But she didn’t. 

The download completed and he had the ability to not only navigate, but also track anyone else in the Crypto Castle. 

Then she turned her attention to Imp and gave him a tracker that was already paired with the app. It was mounted on a band small enough to fit on his wrist and be worn like a bracelet. Imp shook his arm, trying to dislodge the tracker. But it just bounced around on his wrist without slipping off his hand. 

“Your staff should also come to the lab some time to get trackers of their own so they don’t get lost.” Entrapta said. “In the meantime, I told my staff to help them get around.”

…

Catra was Entratpa’s handmaid, that meant she as Entrapta’s servant and lived with her at the Crypto Castle. 

Scorpia, however, was a Princess of her own kingdom, and she was anxious to get home. But she liked Catra and enjoyed spending time with her during their journey from Horde World, so she made a point to say goodbye to Catra. It was awkward, and involved a lot of blushing. 

“…Oh! And- hey! Have you ever been to Princess Prom?” Scorpia asked after the initial wave of awkwardness. It was still awkward, but she seemed to be finding her groove. 

Catra crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a wall. “Well, I’m not a princess, so, no.”

“Oh. Well. Princesses are allowed to have plus ones, so, if you wanna go to Princess Prom… you can be my plus one.” Scorpia told her. “That is, assuming you wanna go to Princess Prom with me.”

“Sure.” Catra shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d ever get another opertunity to go to an event that was exclusively for the Princesses and royalty of Etheria. And she liked Scorpia well enough. She spent weeks trapped on a space ship with her, spending one night at a party with her should be easy. “Sounds like fun.”

“Really? Great!” Scorpia smiled from ear to ear. “I’ll pick you up a little bit before, so we can get ready together!”

Scorpia left. 

…

When Grizzlor and Mantenna finally beamed down to the planet, they were not expecting any sort of pomp or ceremony. The pomp and ceremony was supposed to be for royalty, not the royals’ assistance who were coming in later. 

But there were people to greet them when they beamed down into the main entry way (the only place in the Crypto Castle that Monstron’s energizer sensors could get a clear read on). Three people. A tall woman with muscular arms, mint-green hair, and a pink smock. A short, lithe woman with her dark teal hair piled on top of her head in a tight bun. And a slender, waif-like man with light lavender hair and pointed ears. 

All three of them were laying down colored tape. 

“Um… hello?” Mantenna ventured, unsure. 

The larger woman straightened first, standing up and cracking her back. She heaved a sigh. “You must be the Prince’s assistants, right?” She said. “We figured you might need some help getting around.”

They looked down at the tape on the floor, assuming that was the ‘help’ she was referring too. Three lines of tape, three different colors. Purple-violet, electric green, and neon yellow. 

“Violet is for Princess Entrapta and will take you to her lab.” She explained. “You should probably head there first to get trackers so you don’t get lost. If you don’t wanna pick up your trackers first, the green tape will take you to the rooms we’ve prepared for the Imperial party. Not just the Prince and his son, but his attendants and staff too. In case you wanna take a nap first. The yellow tape will show you where all the bathrooms are. Since you just arrived from a long journey and might need one.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Lady…?” Said Mantenna. 

“Baker.” She supplied for him. “And I’m not a Lady, I’m just the cook. I also serve as head of the household staff.” She waved a hand to indicate the two other people with her. “This is the household staff, Soda Pop.” The slender man with the lavender hair and pointed ears gave a slight bow. “And Bus Girl.” The waif-like girl offered an awkward grin at them. 

“Just the three of you?” Mantenna blinked at them. The Crypto castle was very large. It could not be cleaned, maintained, and staffed by only three people. 

“Just us three organic staff.” Soda Pop corrected, taking a step forward to stand next to Baker. “Everything else is done by Princess Entratpa’s robots.”

The two Horde officers exchanged a look. An almost fully automated castle. No hired servants, enlisted soldiers, or even clones. Just three organic staff and a host of robots. 

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” Mantenna asked. As a general rule, he didn’t get much free time. Being one of the Prince Imperial’s lieutenants was not just a full-time job. It was two full-time jobs, demanding more of his time than here were hours in a standard Imperial day. But, in between tasks, he always managed to find time to chat-up other members of palace staff. Scuttlebutt could be passed at any time. 

Baker only shrugged, not offering further comment. 

There was the beat of a pause in which the five of them just stood there, in the dim entry way, staring at each other. 

Someone coughed. 

Bus Girl cleared her throat, but said nothing. 

Everything about this was so informal. The Prince’s attendants didn’t know what protocol to fall back on for instruction on how to act of what to do. 

Finally, Mantenna said, “So, the violet tape will take us to get trackers from the Princess?”

“Yup.” Nodded Baker. 

“And we need trackers to work in the Crypto Castle?” He just wanted to clarify. 

All three of the staff gave almost identical long-suffering smiles. “Yes.”

Mantenna nodded, accepting the answer at face value. Different cultures and races, across all the different planets and stars in the Empire each had their own customs and traditions. If the custom in Dryl was for residents and staff to wear trackers within the castle, then the Prince’s lieutenants would observe and adapt to local convention. “Then I shall report to the Princess’ lab, as is expected of me.”

Grizzlor was about to follow his colleague, but remembered the datacard in his pocket. A file on the search for Keldor. The Prince would want it returned to him as soon as possible. It shouldn’t take too long to just drop it off in the Prince’s suite before reporting to the Princess’ lab for his own tracker. 

“I’ll meet you there.” He told Mantenna. 

They each began marching deeper into the Crypto Castle. Mantenna following the violet tape that would take him to Entrapta’s lab. Grizzlor following the green tape that would take him to the room that had already been prepared for the Imperial party.

…

Neither of them got to their destinations. At least, not in any kind of ‘timely manner’. 

Mantenna followed the tape to two doors at the end of a corridor. Between the doors was a single computer screen that booted up, flaring with light as he drew near. 

‘A choice lays before you.’ Announced a set of speakers set in the wall just under the screen. ‘One door leads to where you want to go, one door leads to unimaginable suffering! You may ask me which door is safe, but-! I always lie!’

Someone had posted a sign on one of the doors with the same violet tape saying ‘This is the Safe Door’. 

“I’m good. Thanks.” Mantenna brushed past the computer and pulled open the door that was labeled ‘safe’. But before he passed through, he leaned back and addressed the computer. “If you ‘always lie’ then are you lying about ‘always’ lying? Or do you only lie some of the time?”

Three dots scrolled across the screen. Apparently, the computer did not feel like answering. 

Mantenna was about to just ignore it and continue on, but another question occurred to him. “Why even have a door that leads to ‘unimaginable suffering’ at all?”

Those three dots scrolled across the screen again. But this time it was just a pause. A moment’s hesitation before the computer just repeated. ‘One door leads to unimaginable suffering.’

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” He snapped at the computer. “I’ll find out anyway. That’s what I do.”

Passing through the door marked ‘safe’ he found the violet tape continuing on the other side. The tape that would lead him to the Princess’ lab. He was still on the right track. 

…

Grizzlor was following the green tape, which was supposed to take him to the room prepared for the Imperial party. And he could only hope that, that was what it was doing. 

It led him to a door at the end of the hall. But when he passed through the door, there was only a tight and small, empty room on the other side. Grizzlor wheeled around, thinking perhaps they had laid the tape down wrong. But on the back of the door he’d just walked through was a sign taped to it with the same green tape that said ‘Wait 3 Minutes’. 

So, he waited until his personal chronometer had counted three minutes, and opened the door again. 

Grizzlor stepped out into an entirely different corridor from the one he had just walked through. Apparently, things in the Crypto Castle shifted. That was good to know. 

He continued to follow the tape. 

At least, until a large robot that took up almost the whole hallway came barreling at him. With giant round brushes in front of its wheels that looked like they were meant to scrub the floors. Grizzlor had to jump out of the way and flatten himself against the wall to avoid it. 

The robot passed him without incident. But after it past, the tape was all pulled up. Grizzlor had no idea where he was going now! 

He looked up and down the corridor. It wasn’t like it was too hard to navigate. Just keep going in the direction he had been. Pretty straightforward. He shouldn’t get too lost. How hard to find would they make the living quarters anyway? Grizzlor continued down the corridor. 

Until he came to an intersection. The passage branching into three different directions. 

Staring at the options before him, he hesitated. There was no tape on the ground now. He did not know which passage to take. 

But he was an officer of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. He was a graduate of the Horde Academy on Horde World, top of his class. He could figure this out. It was just a new place. Once he got the hang of it, he wouldn’t need tape or a tracker to get around. 

Picking one of the three, Grizzlor headed down one of the corridors. 

It very quickly ended in a dead end. 

So, he doubled back, intending to pick a different path of the three. But when he got back to the intersecition, there’s weren’t three choices, there were now four. 

Grizzlor scratched his head. It was impossible for him to have taken a wrong turn. He didn’t take any turns. The passage he chose was a straight line and it dead-ended very quickly. But, somehow, he managed to come back to a completely different intersection than the one he left from. 

Tapping his communicator, he called someone. “Mantenna, do you have a tracker yet?”

“Almost.” His answer came back. “Even with the tape I’m a little turned around. I swear I passed this same painting before but in a different spot. Do you think the Princess has two copies of it?”

Grizzlor didn’t know. Already the castle had outright changed twice while he was walking through it. He supposed it was entirely possible for the painting Mantenna was talking about had moved of its own accord. 

“When you do get your tracker… can you come get me?” Grizzlor asked over the channel. 

“Sure. Where are you?”

Grizzlor looked around. In the time that he was talking, his attention on his communicator, the intersection had changed again. Without his notice. Without making a sound. There were now only two passages. “I don’t- I don’t know.”


	17. Interrupting in the Office

Phitanium was the hardest substance in the universe. 

The Horde’s space ships were made out of it. Their weapons were made out of it. Their bots were made out of it. Hell! The royal family’s personal armor was made out of it. 

And Elmora knew it. It was why she tried to raise the price. 

But a planetary Queen extorting the great Horde Empire was something they could not allow. The fact that the Horde needed the resource aside, it set a bad precedent! The Empire did not negotiate. The Empire did not concede. The Empire commanded. 

The Horde took swift and firm action against her. Dispatching troops to planet Phantos, seizing control of the phitanium mines, the smelting plants, the forges, and the distribution and shipping ports. It was probably the last act Prince Imperial Hec-Tor Kur was able to sign into command before his wedding to that Etherian princess pulled him away from the capital.

And it completely devastated Queen Elmora’s rule. 

She was ‘Queen’ of her own world in name only now. The Horde having taken over everything resembling any kind of ‘control’. 

Her command was taken over by a Horde officer. Her shipping yards, forges, and smelting plants were staffed and operated by Horde soldiers, her own people that used to work them being thrown out of their jobs. The phitanium mines were dug out and worked by clone units. 

Elmora was still allowed to sit her throne, and retain her title of ‘Queen’. But it was an empty title, and a hollow position. 

So, when the Imperial alert came out to be on the lookout for a new terrorist, one who’s name they did not yet know, but had the blue dusky blue skin of an Eternasi Gar, but a face like a skull, pale bone scrubbed clean of all flesh, all Elmora had to say was, ‘Good for him.’

…

They were off to a good start and Skeletor did not want to lose momentum. But their search for a place to refine the ore taken from Krytis was flagging. 

There wasn’t a place outside the Empire’s sphere of influence with the facilities capable of working with such a highly toxic mineral. Any place with facilities advanced enough to refine the ore were not only in Imperial space, but also occupied by a strong military presence. 

Skeletor sat on the throne in the great hall of the castle in Snake Mountain, and scrolled through a list of planets, space stations, and asteroid settlements, dissatisfied with all of them. 

Behind him, he heard an unnecessarily loud sipping sound. Skeletor turned, seeing Evil-Lyn standing there, sipping a glass of lavender-mint tea. 

“Don’t mind me.” She took another sip, making sure to slurp extra loud. 

“Is there something you want to say?” Skeletor asked. “Or are you just being irritating because you’re bored?”

She took another sip of her iced tea, this one silent, and came around to stand in front of his throne. Evil-Lyn took her time before answering, “I notice you’re not even looking at Imperial occupied worlds.”

“Because they’re Imperial-held.” Skeletor told her, feeling like this should have been obvious. 

Evil-Lyn just lifted her chin, flashing him an almost trollish smile. “They are occupied. When have you even known the natives of occupied worlds to be pleased with the occupation?”

If he still had eyebrows, Skeletor would have raised on at her. Instead, he steepled his fingers and waited for her to continue. Evil-Lyn was unique. Sometimes, she was soft, empathetic, and nurturing. Qualities Skeletor imagined probably belonged to ‘Evelyn Powers’ the refugee from Earth that had crashed on Eternia. He wouldn’t know, he never actually met Evelyn Powers, only knew that Marlena had been very attached to her. Other times, she was devious, strategic, calculating, and cold. Entirely like… Horde Prima, Par-Is Kur

She hopped up to sit on the arm of his throne, offering him her half-drank glass of iced tea. Skeletor took it. He was introduced to a lot of creature comforts back when he lived in the Imperial palace on Horde World, but lavender-mint tea was definitely one of his favorites. He took a long sip as she explained. 

“Occupying rules are oppressive. They oust the native leadership and install foreigners –usually soldiers- in their places.” Evil-Lyn grabbed her glass of iced tea back from him before he could finish it. “Understandably, natives do not appreciate being ruled by outsiders who don’t understand them or their customs, limit freedoms, and impose martial laws to maintain order. Similarly, the former leader of occupied worlds don’t appreciate being removed from the power and influence they’re used to having, or the wealth that usually comes with power and influence. We’re more likely to find allies on Imperial-held and Imperial-occupied worlds than we will on planets or asteroids in the middle of nowhere that no one cares about, and have no reason to go against the Empire.”

Feeling her point was made, she drained the last of the lavender-mint tea and leaned over him to set the now empty glass on the other armrest of the throne. 

“Of course, that’s just my opinion.” She shrugged. 

Skeletor had a very high regard for her opinions when she was like this. When she wasn’t asking him about his own feelings and trying to council him through emotions he’d rather not feel. When she was reminding him of the broader concept of emotion and condition that could be used to predict and manipulate people. She had always been very good at manipulating people, even before she was ‘Evil-Lyn’. 

Running a finger around the rim of the empty glass, Skeletor asked, “Supposing we do contact the deposed leadership of an Imperial-occupied world, how would we go about our own business without being discovered by the local garrison?”

She tilted her head, giving him an almost teasing smile. “Don’t tell me, you, with all your knowledge of the Empire, it’s military, and how things work, you don’t even have the slightest idea?”

Still running his finger over the rim of the glass, Skeletor thought for a moment. As much as the Hore Empire was a military machine, it was also bogged down in bureaucracy. Sometimes, orders were misfiled, personnel was shifted, things were confused in the shuffle… 

“I could forge some Imperial commands.” He said slowly, talking through his thought process out loud. “We could pose as Enlisted soldiers. That would get us to the planet and allow us to move around freely. After that, it would be a matter of just convincing the local… whoever used to be in charge, to help us.”

“I’m good at convincing people to go along with my plans.” Evil-Lyn informed him. 

“You’re good at convincing people when you’re like this.” Skeletor reminded her in turn. “When you’re pragmatic and clinical. You are not good at swaying people when you get all soft and just wanna sing kumbaya and talk about their feelings. And you can’t control when you switch.”

She frowned at him. Evil-Lyn had an entirely different opinion. Not everyone was swayed by cold logic and pragmatic reasoning. Sometimes, people needed to be swayed by their own base and visceral feelings, not their empirical needs. She didn’t think her two sides were all that different from each other. Evelyn Powers’ sympathy, and Par-Is Kur’s pragmatism were both rooted in empathy. In an understanding of other people that came from suffering. Evil-Lyn might not have either of their memories, but she retained their feelings –and the talent for knowing people that went along with them. 

“When we find a suitable world with the right kind of industry, I’ll go.” Skeletor announced. “I’ll take Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw with me, so I won’t be going alone. You will remain here at Snake Mountain and coordinate our other efforts.”

“I’m not one of your minions.” She reminded him. They were supposed to be partners, each with an equal share in the venture. “You can’t order me around like one.”

“It wasn’t a command.” He tried to argue. 

“It sure sounded a lot like a command.” Evil-Lyn stood, no longer wanting to sit on the arm of his throne, and regretting sharing her lavender-mint tea with him. 

Skeletor massaged the sides of his skull, as if these were still muscles there capable of getting tension. There weren’t, but the mind still remembered what the body had lost. This was a drift back to Evelyn Powers, cold and calculating Par-Is would have recognized the risk in bringing an unpredictable element into an unsure situation. 

“What I meant was,” he began, hoping he was choosing his words correctly, “was that we will need someone to maintain our other efforts while I am occupied negotiating for a new ally and new industry. I don’t trust anyone but you to take command while I’m gone. And, quite frankly, knowing the band of idiots that follow us, you shouldn’t trust anyone but yourself either.”

She only continued to glare at him. Hands on her hips, a frown on her face. 

“We are partners.” Skeletor assured her. “That’s why I need you to command. You are my co-commander.”

He saw the shift on her face before she said anything else out loud. The arch of her brows softening with thought, the frown easing away from displeasure, to one of consideration. The hands on her hips were no longer fists, but flat palms, one finger tapping her armored hip with consideration. 

“Your face is all over the extranet.” She reminded him. 

Skeletor nodded. “Something that was bound to happen. We couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.”

“The Empire is a lot closer to us than it was before.” She was just thinking out loud at this point, not yet drawing a conclusion. “Prince Hec-Tor, with his giant warship, are in this very solar system, only one planet away.”

“All the more reason for someone competent and trustworthy to stay behind and watch the base.” Skeletor reminded her. 

He wasn’t actually imagining Hec-Tor tracking them back to Snake Mountain any time soon. The Prince would need time to adjust to his new home and his new wife. Even if he did throw himself into his duties, work long hours, and never actually see his new spouse –as he did when his marriage to Keldor was still new- his work would not lead him to Snake Mountain. 

Skeletor stood from his throne and placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling the muscle underneath the Eternian-style armor plating. The firm musculature of a healthy body that exercised regularly. Violet eyes, not glowing red ones, under frost-white brows, set in a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, yes, but no where near as sharp as a space bat’s. Hec-Tor wouldn’t recognize her. But still, even if the Horde Prince did track them down and make his way to Snake Mountain…

“You are the only one I know can stand up to Hec-Tor if he were to find us.” Skeletor told her outright. 

“I don’t remember him.” Evil-Lyn reminded him. 

“And he won’t recognize you.” He agreed. “Even so. I believe he would never harm you.”

The bond of twins was a unique bond. It was almost like a kind of magic of its own. The Kurs were not sorcerers. The Horde Empire had little magic. But there was still an ephemeral and indistinct connection between twins that was hard to explain any other way. Keldor was with Hec-Tor when Par-Is died. They were not allowed in the room, but, at the moment that her body expired and the soul left it, Hec-Tor felt it. Keldor could tell. 

Squeezing Keldor’s hand tighter than he had already been, talons almost digging into his husband’s skin. One arm wrapping around his gut, almost as if he’d just been punched in the stomach. Gasping out her name as if begging her not to leave. 

Hec-Tor could feel his sister. He wouldn’t recognize Evil-Lyn as Par-Is, because she was not Par-Is, she was Evil-Lyn. But, he might recognize that something of his twin still lived on within her. 

…

The Crypto Castle was an adjustment. 

For everyone. 

It seemed a day did not go by without Hec-Tor’s comm buzzing with someone who had gotten lost and needed directions to get to where they were going. 

Everyone in the castle wore trackers, and anyone who had a datapad or device capable of running complicated applications, received the app that mapped out the castle and it’s changes in real time. That way everyone could see where they were and where they were going. 

But Hec-Tor’s datapad (and Entrapta’s computer in her lab) had administrator privileges. Hec-Tor could control the castle’s changes. Pause a passage from shifting. Switch a staircase from one landing to another. Open a door into a different room. Hec-Tor was still getting used to the app. But he was adjusting. In fact, thanks to his administrator privileges, he was adjusting better than most. 

There was one hub where multiple corridors intersected and shifted that Grizzlor absolutely hated. He would never state it outright. He was too professional to voice such vehement opinions. But Hec-Tor did notice that he used his own tracker and map app to avoid that intersection, sometimes even at the cost of accomplishing his assigned tasks quickly and efficiently. One time, Grizzlor even detoured out of the castle, walking over the roof of one building, up to the platform of the Dryl Orb, then back down into the castle to deliver a new datacard to Hec-Tor in his office. 

Mantenna had taken to spending a great deal of his off time –of which he did not have much- arguing with a computer on the ground level that was apparently programmed to always lie. This annoyed Mantenna greatly, not because it sounded absurd for someone to have programmed a computer to lie, but because before the computer would begin talking to anyone, it would announce that it always lied. But if it always lied, shouldn’t it try and say that it always told the truth instead? Or qualify the statement and say that it lied some of the time, or even most of the time. In addition to being a Lieutenant of Prince Imperial Hec-Tor, Mantenna was also a chief interrogator, it was his job to determine truths from lies. The computer offended him on a professional level so deep it was almost personal. 

Catra was Princess Entrapta’s lady-in-waiting and personal attendant. She had already been living in the Crypto Castle for many years. Her adjustment was now having to put up with hardened soldiers and decorated Horde officers coming to her, almost in tears, begging for directions, a way out, where is the toilet!?, or just ‘…help’. She missed the days back when it was just her, Bake, Bus Girl, and Soda Pop taking care of Entrapta. Now they had a whole garrison living within the walls and it appeared that the Horde was not adjusting well. 

The only one who did seem to be adjusting well was Prince Imp. 

Imp loved every confusing, nonsensical, moving piece of the Crypto Castle. Before the first week was even complete he managed to learn the patterns of the changing corridors to escape his keepers. 

He found a corridor that seemed to go on infinitely, never ending or beginning, just one straight line of ‘always’… unless you found the gaps in the wall on the south-facing side that were hidden by a trick of the lighting and forced perspective of the bricks. 

He found an outdoor hedge maze in a portion of the castle that was not supposed to have an ‘outdoor’. There was an Enlisted soldier in the maze when Imp found it, and they were marking bricks with arrows to try and find their way. Any brick that the Enlisted marked flipped itself over of its own accord, turning their marks in all different directions but the direction they wanted to go. 

There was a series of rooms that all connected to each other, but did not line up in straight lines, all filled with robot faces that shouted to ‘Wrong way!’, ‘Go back!’, ‘The path you have chosen will surely lead to certain death!’

There was a sudden drop that lead down into a dark and dirty oubliette. That did frighten Imp for a bit. He thought he was trapped and couldn’t get out. He didn’t want to have to hit the panic button on his tracker and have Dad come and rescue him. Then Dad would be mad, and if Dad was mad he would limit some of Imp’s freedoms. After spending some time crying, because he was five, and he thought he was trapped, Imp waited for his eyes to adjust, then found a plank of wood with a knob on it laying on the ground. He propped it up against a wall and the plank of wood suddenly became a door, with a narrow and spider-webbed tunnel behind it. 

That tunnel lead out into a junk pile under the castle, and Imp took a few moments to find absolute treasures among the trash. 

Overall, Imp was having a great time. 

No one else had adjusted as well as Imp had by the time the official invitation to Princess Prom arrived. 

It was dropped off at the Crypto Castle, but given to one of the robots in the courtyard whom was not programmed to recognize its importance. The bot rolled around the castle with it on a tray for quite a while until it reported to the kitchens to collect a serving of tiny food to bring to Entrapta in her lab. Baker recognized its significance immediately and took it from the bot. 

She set the bot to rest mode and took Entrapta’s food up to the lab herself. 

The Princess didn’t even notice the one serving her, her cupcakes and fizzy drink wasn’t even a robot at first. She was so engrossed in her work. 

Entrapta appeared to be working on several projects at once. Building a series of bots to build her weapons for Horde Prime in a faster and more efficient assembly-line style, designing newer and more powerful weapons than the ones she was already making, and dissecting or dismantling the body parts she brought back with her from Nordor. 

Baker cringed visibly at that last one. Only Princess Entrapta could be oblivious to the abject carnage that she happily carted home with her. 

Baker didn’t realize she made that comment outloud until Entrapta turned, the straw of her fizzing drink still in her mouth as she smiled. “Ah, Baker, when did you get here!?” She smiled happily. Entrapta got company while she was working so rarely. “Did you wanna see what I’m working on?”

“No, no, there’s not need to share Imperial secrets with me.” Baker assured her. The last thing she wanted was a prosthetic leg with the organic femur and thigh still attached waved in her face. “I just came to make sure you knew the invitation to Princess Prom arrived.”

She held out the invitation. 

If Entrapta was smiling before, she all but lit up at the mention of Princess Prom. Corners of her mouth reaching all the way up to her eyes, which were suddenly sparkling with stars. She rubbed her gloved hands together as she lifted the invitation scroll with her hair. 

“The greatest social experiment of the decade!” She announced. Princess Prom only happened once every ten years. Another tendril of hair wrapped itself around Baker’s waist and the two women twirled around together. “Think of all the data I’ll be able to collect. Interpersonal combinations, coding for social discourse! Oh, I can’t wait to catalogue and analyze Perfuma’s reaction when she sees me walk in with Hec-Tor! She said I’d never find anyone to be with, you know. I wonder why she said that. The universe is so vast, she couldn’t possibly have accounted for all the variables.”

The room continued spinning for Baker long after Entrapta let her go. She leaned against… something that felt solid and metallic, and closed her eyes to try and reclaim her balance. “I’m sure Prince Hec-Tor will be happy to know.”

“Ah! You’re right!” Entrapta squeaked, as an afterthought occurred to her. “I should got tell him!”

Doing cartwheels on her hair, Entrapta dashed out of her lab, humming happily. 

Hec-Tor was reading over the projections for their first shipment of combat bots to the Empire. The number of units was just a bit lower than what Horde Prime had wanted. But it was literally Dryl’s first shipment, and Hec-Tor was delayed in getting to his new position by old tasks that should have been dealt with before he even left Horde World. Maybe, if Brother wanted things done faster, he should try ruling his Empire himself instead of delegating everything to his baby brother! 

Not that Hec-Tor was harboring any bitterness about it or anything. 

He was distracted when Entrapta burst into the office. “Guess what!”

“Production is progressing on schedule and we shall meet our quota.” He ventured optimistically, already knowing that could not be what had her so excited. He had the numbers in front of him already, and knew that they would be shorting the first shipment at least one thousand robot units. 

Entrapta paused, then shook her head. “Don’t be silly. We only just started manufacturing. Building bots takes time. You can’t rush engineering!” Her hair wafted around them, undulating in a cloud of lavender until an object drifted to the forefront and she held it between them. “Our invitation to Princess Prom just arrived!”

It was all he could do to stare at her. 

“Our what? To what?” Hec-Tor blinked glowing crimson eyes at the scroll held in her hair. 

“Well, my invitation to Princess Prom.” She corrected. “But you’re my husband now, so of course you’ll be my plus one!” 

He took another moment to stare at her, waiting to see if she would elaborate more. When she didn’t he asked, “And what is this ‘Princess Prom’?”

“Oh. Right. You’re not from Etheria, so you wouldn’t know.” Entrapta set the invitation scroll down on his desk and drifted around the room, moving on waves of purple hair. “All the preliminary data is in the invitation. It’s a gathering of all the rulers of all the countries and territories on Etheria. All of them thrown into one room, for one night. It only happens once every ten years. I didn’t collect as much data last time as I should have. I was distracted. Science is a process and I was still learning my process back then. But it’s the best social experiment of the decade!”

Every ruler on the planet in one room together. That did sound like quite the event, indeed. 

Hec-Tor looked down at the scroll she put on his desk. A paper scroll, not a datacard. Breaking the seal, he unrolled it. 

The scrolled unfurled longer than he was expecting. Rolling off the desk and across the floor to where it finally stopped when it hit the closed door. He blinked at the length of the document. There was still quite a bit of parchment rolled up. 

He lifted his eyes to Entrpata whom was drifting above him on her air. Hands clasp together happily, cheek resting on the back of her glove. She smiled down at him. She was genuinely excited about this. She became genuinely excited about a great many things it seemed. Party invitations, robotics, space travel, severed body parts. If it was worthy of even mild curiosity, Entrapta was excited about it. 

Such enthusiasm was infectious and it was hard for Hec-Tor to resist. Their journey from Horde World had been a long one and full of military tedium interspaced with occasional violence. Since arriving in Dryl, it had been even more tedium, interspaced with having to rescue terrified and sobbing Enlisted soldiers from the castle’s passages. 

A ball –or ‘prom’- sounded like a welcome distraction. 

“I shall study the preliminary data.” He promised her. 

“Great!” She bounced out of the room as suddenly as she had come. 

Hec-Tor was left sitting at his desk in a bit of a daze. That was the first time Entrapta had burst in on him while working. 

Overall, it wasn’t all that different from Keldor barging in on him while working. A little louder, to be sure. But briefer. Keldor usually lingered, sometimes longer than Hec-Tor should have allowed. Sometimes, they- um… Actually, Entrapta’s interruption was very different from Keldor’s. Very, very, different. 

…

Hec-Tor was sitting at his desk, going over the total figures of new clone units produced by the creches and comparing it to the graduate rates for Enlisted soldiers from the Academy. Brother wanted to expand the Empire, and they needed troops to do that. But they also needed troops to maintain the Empire they already had. Apparently, it was Hec-Tor’s job to figure out how to do both without the number of bodies they had available to them. 

That was how he was when Keldor walked in. Holding a trey of cucumber sandwiches in one hand, and a pitcher of iced tea in the other. He set them both down on the desk. 

“You know, we have servants to bring me meals.” Hec-Tor informed him, looking up from his screen. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips though. It was nice that his husband brought him lunch. “There’s no need for a Prince Imperial to be preforming serving tasks.”

“But I wanted to.” Keldor sat on the end of the desk. He plucked a sandwich off the trey and held it out for Hec-Tor. 

Slowly, his eyes on Keldor, not the sandwich, Hec-Tor leaned forward and took the triangle-cut bread in his mouth. 

“And, besides, don’t you need to take your medications with food?” Keldor added. 

No sooner did he say this, then a clone entered carrying the little ceramic ramekin containing his thrice daily dose of medication. Keldor was not wrong. 

“I spent some time with your sister yesterday.” He continued to explain as the clone set the ramekin down and left. “She gave me some excellent advice that I’ve decided to take.”

“Par-Is is very good at giving advice.” Hec-Tor agreed. “What was the advice, if I may ask.”

He peeled the plastic lid off the ceramic cup, then poured himself a glass of the iced tea to wash it down with. He noted the scent of lavender-mint tea, a favorite of his sister’s, clearly something else Par-Is had introduced Keldor to that he decided to adopt. He tipped the pills into the back of his throat and washed them down as quickly as possible. 

“Advice about us.”

Hec-Tor almost choked on his medications. He mentioned to his sister once –in passing- that he felt he and his husband were always being very formal with each other –which was fine in public- but he wanted to be more… intimate, and he didn’t know how. Par-Is, obviously, took this to mean ‘can you go tell my husband that I want to bone him and make him do the work for me’. 

Keldor poured more tea into his glass and offered it to his now suddenly hacking and gagging husband. “Don’t choke! If I become a widower before we’ve been married even a year, my people might think I’ve been cursed.”

Hec-Tor accepted the offered glass and chugged it down, forcing his medication back down with it. “I will not die.” He said when the glass was empty. “I simply did not think my sister would be so bold as to- as to tell you-“ He felt his face grow hot and knew he was blushing. He was blushing horribly. Hec-Tor cleared his throat. “I will not die. I am usually much, much better at suppressing my gag-reflex.”

“Really?” Keldor seemed very interested in that. He scooted around the desk to sit facing Hec-Tor. Dressed in Eternian clothing, a leather loincloth and belts. Boots that went up to his knees and cuffed with fur. Bare legs between. 

Unconsciously, Hec-Tor’s eyes were drawn to his exposed thighs. To the muscles that rippled under the skin. The tight sinews that drew lines up the inside of his thighs. Pulling the eyes to the notably sizable bulge that rested there. Hec-Tor’s face was already red, but now he could feel his ears and his neck heating up too. His hands twitched at his sides. Hec-Tor wanted to touch those thighs. Run his palms over that tight azure skin. Feel his way up to-

Then Keldor added, “Perhaps we should work on suppressing your gag-reflex together.”

Hec-Tor felt oddly short of breath and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to just start outright panting right then and there. He shifted the fabric of his gown to hide just exactly what affect that suggestion had on him. He cleared his throat. “That is- you would-“ he took a breath, trying to get himself together along with his words. “I would enjoy more practice suppressing my gag-reflex, if it was with your… help.”

Reaching out, Keldor took Hec-Tor’s hands in his and guided them to his legs. Resting Hec-Tor’s palms almost at the line where his loincloth covered the curve of his ass. “My… help.”

Now Hec-Tor was panting. Truly, deeply panting. Taking in heavy breaths and letting them out quickly. His body felt hot, and his clothing felt tight. “Keldor, we- -are in my office.” He barely managed to gasp out. All that had actually happened between them was some spoken innuendo and a little imprudent touching. Yet, Hec-Tor’s mind was half-clouded by desire. “I am working.”

Keldor slid off the desk and into Hec-Tor’s lap, straddling his legs. He grinded his pelvis against his husbands, and there was no hiding Hec-Tor’s arousal from that. 

“I thought you were on your lunch break.” Keldor leaned forward, whispering into Hec-Tor’s pointed ear. 

A shudder ran down the Prince’s back. Keldor was so damn forward! He should have known the moment the Gar Prince pushed him over the wall into Eternos that he would be like this. They raised them almost half-feral on Eternia, and marriage did not magically dispel his wildness. 

Keldor pulled back enough for Hec-Tor to see his face and note that he was pouting. “You’re always so tired at the end of the day.” Keldor reminded him. “You don’t have any energy to give me any attention.” He moved his hips again, the leather of his loincloth pulling against the satin of Hec-Tor’s gown. “But you don’t seem too tired right now…”

Keldor was leaning in close again. One hand caressing the juncture where Hec-Tor’s cheek met his neck. Their mouths were very close. Lips almost touching. They could feel each other’s breaths on their skin. 

“I thought-“ Hec-Tor tried to gasp out. “I thought you were self-sufficient.”

“Two hands and an imagination can only do so much.” Keldor informed him. “At some point, I need my l-“ there was odd pause. Not of his breath catching, more like Keldor didn’t know what words to use. His own mind probably as clouded by desire as Hec-Tor’s was. “-my noble Prince to take care of me…”

Hec-Tor’s hands were on Keldor again. This time he was grabbing his ass. Rubbing gentle caresses up and down the curve. “I am on my lunch break.”

“Your lunch break is your own time.” Keldor told him, hands reaching up to unclasp the fastener that held the up the yoke of Hec-Tor’s gown. 

The space bat jumped, as if shocked when the garment fell away. “Here! In my office?”

Sliding off his lap, Keldor stood, pulling Hec-Tor to his feet so he could slide the rest of the gown off his hips. The Prince stood wearing only his undergarments, his armor, and a blush. 

“I doubt we’d have time to run to our rooms, do what we want to do, and come back again in your short one hour lunch break.” Keldor informed him. “Here’s as good a place as any.”

That- …was a point. 

Hec-Tor didn’t know if it was a good point or not. At the moment, he didn’t care. He was so aroused and near half-mad with desire that letting Keldor bend him over the desk sounded like a fantastic idea! 

Fingers trembling, he reached for the belt of Keldor’s loincloth. It wasn’t just a simple buckle. This was a complicated affair, with some kind of a hook and snap fastener concealed behind a decorative skull-shaped medallion. 

“Need some help.” Keldor asked when Hec-Tor did not managed to get it undone on the first try. 

“I will figure it out.” Insisted the space bat. He could undress his own husband! It wasn’t like he wore much clothing to begin with anyway. Just- the little bit that he did wear was apparently locked in place, like some absurd, leather-studded chastity belt. Who designed these things? What was going on, on planet Eternia!? “This confounded thing is more complicated than bodice laces!”

“Here.” Keldor’s hands drifted down to show him. 

The decorative medallion slid to one side to give access to the fastener. The snap popped open like breaking it in half, allowing the hook to slide free. And just like that, Keldor’s loincloth was off. Joining Hec-Tor’s gown on the floor. 

There was a moment’s pause as they both stood there in their underwear. Their arousal momentarily overshadowed by nervousness. They had no made love since their wedding night, and that hadn’t been about them or their own desires, that had been… the notary seal on a transaction. 

They both hesitated. 

“Do you… still wanna work on your gag reflex?” Keldor asked. 

Suddenly, Hec-Tor felt like such a shallow braggart, telling Keldor that he was great at suppressing his gag reflex. Swallowing an assortment of pills was very different from deep-throating a hard cock. What if he was writing lines of credit his mouth could not cash? He didn’t wanna disappoint Keldor. 

Perhaps his hesitation dragged on too long, because Keldor looked down at his loincloth on the floor, finally blushing for the first time since this whole episode began. “Of course, if you’ve changed your mind, you don’t have to.” He said. “If you don’t wanna do anything in your office, that’s fine. I want you to be comfortable.”

“I-“ Hec-Tor didn’t actually know what he wanted. 

But then Keldor moved, bending as if about to pick up his loincloth. 

Moving before his brain even made the conscious decision, Hec-Tor found himself pushing Keldor back against the desk. “I do want to!”

Dark brown eyes blinked back at him, surprised by his boldness. 

Hands were on his ass again, lifting Keldor up to sit him on top the desk. The tight briefs-style garment he wore under his loincloth was pulled off and left to hang from his boots. Hec-Tor knelt in front of him, mouth open.

“Mind the teeth!” Keldor gasped before any contact could even be made. 

“What?” Hec-Tor paused, looking up as if confused. 

“Your teeth.” Keldor repeated. “They’re really sharp. Please don’t… accidentally bite my dick.”

“I have done this before.” The space bat informed him testily.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.” The Gar assured him in return. “All I asked was that you not bite me.”

“If I ever bite you,” began Hec-Tor, “anywhere, if I ever bite you anywhere, it will because you are begging me too.”

Those brown eyes blinked at him again. Keldor had not been expecting a statement like that. 

Assuming that meant his lover was adequately placated and assured that he was in no danger from his fangs, Hec-Tor lowered his mouth over Kedor’s stiff cock. 

Down and up… down and up. Hec-Tor bobbed his head, stroking and caressing with lips and tongue, but being very, very careful not to accidentally scratch with teeth. He took it in, as deep as it would go, until he could feel the head press into the back of his throat. Then he raised his head up, sucking as Hec-Tor slowly lifted his mouth, until all he held between his lips was the head. Then back down again. Again, and again. Slow at first. Then faster. And faster. Down and up. Down and up. Faster. And Faster.

Keldor sighed with appreciation, head tilting back at the feel of a warm wet mouth around him. Leaning back on the heels of his hands as he let his husband… give him more attention… 

Taking advantage of his suppressed gag-reflex, Hec-Tor took Keldor down into his throat. Massaging the base of the cock with his lips, he stroked and petted the shaft with his tongue. Slathering it with wetness. Saliva dripped down Keldor’s balls and onto the elegantly carpeted floor of the office. 

Keldor moaned and writhed. Bucking his hips, using the heels of his hands for leverage, and thrusting into Hec-Tor’s throat with reckless abandon.

Hec-Tor pressed both hands to Keldor’s hips, trying to hold him still. Then he flexed his throat, as if swallowing. 

Keldor gasped out a word in a language Hec-Tor did not understand and he assumed it was a Garish swear. Taking that as a sign of appreciation, he swallowed again. The muscles of his throat tightening around Keldor’s cock as it tried to pull him deeper inside. 

“Fuck! I-!” Keldor couldn’t seem to get a sentence out. 

The third time Hec-Tor swallowed, it wasn’t just hard cock. Keldor came, and came hard. Body doubling over. Hands gripping at the military cut his husband called hair. Gasping and moaning obscenely. Hec-Tor gulped down every thick, salty spurt. 

He did not take his mouth off Keldor’s cock until he swallowed every drop. Slowly raising himself up, lips still sucking the shaft. Making sure he got every last bit. Before finally pulling his mouth off with a wet little pop.

Keldor was still panting from his orgasm when their eyes met. Chest heaving. Ribcage expanding with every breath. Making the belts crossed over his chest shift with every inhale and exhale. 

“I take it you were satisfied with my performance.” Hec-Tor stated. “I did not use too much teeth.”

“That was-“ Keldor still seemed unable to form complete sentences. He looked almost as socked as he was satisfied. Almost as if he did not expect to enjoy the experience as much as he did. “That was-“ 

Reaching out, Hec-Tor took Keldor’s hands in his. Closing the space between them and leaning down to rest his forehead against his husbands. He guided Keldor’s hand to his own still very aroused and very hard cock. “I would like to enjoy a performance as well.”

Keldor hesitated for half a moment, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm. 

But he didn’t get to do much more than just wrap a hand around Hec-Tor’s rigid member.

At that moment, one of the Prince’s aids walked in carrying a tray of datacards. The poor aid froze in the doorway, seeing the Prince and his husband essentially naked and very clearly… in the middle of something. 

Both men froze. 

Neither one of them had remembered to lock the door. 

Hec-Tor was the first to recover. Practically snapping down into a crouch to retrieve his gown from the floor. He held it against himself in an effort to cover his nakedness. Face a vivid shade of red.

The aid had all four of their hands covering their eyes. “I am so, so, so sorry Your Highnesses!” They cried and ran from the room. 

Keldor sighed. People in the Horde were all so prudish and easily offended. He pulled his underwear back up and bend down to retrieve his own loincloth. “Some other time.”

“If I am not too tired, tonight!” Hec-Tor promised. 

“If you’re not too tired.”


	18. Princess Prom

This would be Hec-Tor’s first formal event on Etheria. Academically, he knew it couldn’t be anything like formal events in the Empire, but he was very much hoping it would also not be like ‘formal’ events on Eternia either. Etheria and Eternia were neighbors within the same solar system and there were numerous similarities between them. But they were still two different planets with their own different and unique cultures. They did not have to structure their balls and celebrations the same. 

Hec-Tor just did not want to be in a room full of drunk, rowdy, scantily clad warriors, smashing beer tankards, and dancing on tables like how it was at Randor’s coronation. 

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Hec-Tor did enjoy the scantily clad warriors part. Both the men and the women on Eternia seemed to dress exactly the same –even to formal events- loincloths of either leather or fur, belts, breastplates, occasionally a leotard. But no pants. No one on Eternia ever seemed to wear pants. A planet of bare legs and butt-cheeks. That was nice… 

On Etheria, Hec-Tor already noted, that people did –in fact- wear pants. So, that at least, would be different from Eternian formal events. 

The invitation also covered a great deal of etiquette and protocol that needed to be followed upon entering Princess Prom, and that too was different from Eternia. Rules for greeting, rules for eating, rules for drinking, rules for dancing. So, the chances of people jumping up on tables and smashing tankards on the floor were very low. 

Hec-Tor smoothed his hands over his gown. A satin bodice with a plunging V-neckline going so low it almost exposed his belly. A panel of chiffon was sewn in and inlayed with diamonds that sparkled to distract from the discoloration that was exposed. More sparkling, diamond encrusted chiffon hung from his shoulders, unable to decide if they were sleeves or a cape, they just barely brushed the floor, as long as the skirt, whispering over the stones like the gossamer of a ghost. All of it a blue so dark it was almost black. 

While a formal dress code was implied by the overall formality and tone of the invitation, no dress code was expressly stated on the form. Hec-Tor had checked very thoroughly, as had both his lieutenants. Princesses were not specifically required to dress-up for the occasion. 

Perhaps that was why Entrapta bounced into the entrance hall, seemingly ready to leave, wearing the exact same overalls she had worn almost every day since the day Hec-Tor had met her. He would have thought she might throw on the dress she wore to their informal brunch, at least –even with its grease stain on the yoke. 

But that was back on Horde World, and there was an old saying, ‘When in the in the Horde, do as the Horde do.’ They were no on Horde World anymore. Now they were on Etheria, and Entrapta was doing as Etherians did. She was being herself. 

“Ready to go?” Entrapta cartwheeled around him on her hair. 

Before he could respond, a robot appeared and opened the door. 

Scorpia was on the other side, wearing a sleek black dress with a sweetheart bodice and an asymmetrical sleeve. She was holding a bouquet of flowers in one claw, the other one scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “Oh, hey guys! You look nice! Wow, Prince, are those diamonds?”

“Hey, Scorpia!” Entrapta smiled at her. “Were we supposed to go together?”

A datapad materialized from out of her hair and she began scrolling through her calendar app, legitimately wondering if she made plans with her friend and had forgotten. She was very good at remembering things pertaining to tech, her experiments, or her other interests. She was not quite so good at remembering interpersonal things like dates with friends, or birthdays. 

“Uh, no… I’m actually here to pick up Catra.” Scorpia told her. 

Entrapta blinked, as if confused for a moment. 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” Announced Catra’s voice from behind a billowing mound of Entrapta’s hair. 

The Princess lifted her hair to reveal Catra was, indeed, also in the entrance hall. Wearing a wine burgundy suit, tailored to fit her figure, and spats over her feet. It looked like she tried to include a bowtie, but was unable to tie it. It hung un-tied around her neck. 

Catra looked Scorpia up and down. “You look really good.”

Scorpia could only beam at her. “Wow, Catra, you look amazing!”

She offered her arm, and Scorpia and Catra left together. 

Hec-Tor watched their retreating backs in confusion. A Princess with a… servant? 

Entrapta, however, seemed completely unbothered. Not just unbothered, but genuinely happy. She did a backflip with her hair, smiling wide and cackling with glee. “I’m so glad Scorpia found someone to go with! And Catra get’s to go too! We should all compare notes at the end. I wonder how our different variables will affect the data!”

Hec-Tor did not offer a comment. 

…

Princess Prom was hosted by the Kingdom of Brightmoon. 

It was Dryls neighboring kingdom, literally on the other side of the mountains that made up the majority of Entrapta’s domain. It the mountains bordering it on one side, an enchanted forest encircling most of the rest of it, and one small little stretched of coastline that provided Brightmoon with sea access. 

The palace was built overlooking the main harbor and they had put lights on the water for the event. 

There were lights in the halls and corridors too, and floating up near the ceiling of the great hall that had been converted into a ballroom. Glowing orbs of magic in the colors of pink, white, blue, and lavender. Hec-Tor had seen Keldor make balls of light before. Small balls of a soft yellow light to read by. But never as many or as grand of these. It was said that the Queen of Brightmoon drew primal magic from the Moonstone, one of very few magical runestones that were the source of most magics on Etheria. Not only that, but she had married a sorcerer, the top graduate from the magical collage of Mystacore, Micah. Brightmoon was a kingdom rich with magic and it showed. 

Hec-Tor and Entrapta bowed to the hosting couple, lowing the appropriate depth, and holding it for the specified amount of time. There were very specific instructions in the invitation for visiting leaders from other planets. Entrapta was not a visiting leader, but Hec-Tor was, and Entrapta was his spouse. It was a little confusing and there were room for interpretation, but one of them raised themselves up from the bow before the other and neither Queen Angella or King Micah were insulted. 

“We welcome you under the Ancient Rules of Hospitality. Please enjoy the ball.” Angella announced. The words of welcome that were outlined in the invitation which Hec-Tor expected. Words that signified the greetings were over and he and Entrapta were free to move about the party. 

The room was already full of people. Every royal house of Etheria was represented, even some that were not technically royal, but none the less influential or important on Etheria. 

A green-skinned reptilian creature with yellow-blond hair tumbling down their back, wearing a crop top and a pencil skirt, a feather boa draped over their shoulders that he did not recognize. A small child wearing a blue coat with white fur trim, which Hec-Tor did recognize as a Princess of the northern most kingdom. He saw Scorpia with Catra again, Scorpia smiling at everyone and everything, while Catra stood close to her politely embarrassed with her arms crossed over her chest. There was a woman with dark skin and dark hair, dressed in a sari, another Princess, from the sea fairing kingdom he thought. She was trying very hard to look like she hadn’t come with a man who was dressed to match her and was making an utter fool of himself. 

Hec-Tor was still taking stock of the crowd gathered in the room, trying to match faces to the dossiers he’d read in preparation for his move to Etheria, but Entrapta pulled him away. Wrapping her hair around his waist and pulling him halfway across the room. The chiffon of his sleeves billowing behind them to mark their path. 

“Perfuma! Hey!” Entrapta shouted at another woman halfway across the room. “There’s someone I want you to meet!”

Hec-Tor was plunked down back on his feet in front of a woman with sun-browned skin dotted with freckles, and golden hair. She blinked up at him, perhaps a little intimidated by his height, but more than anything confused. She chanced a glance at Entrapta, looking for more of an explanation. Why had she practically vaulted over the whole room to show this man to her. 

Entrapta seemed content only to smile. 

“I’m… pleased to meet you?” Said the blond –Perfuma. “Um, who… are you?”

“Oh! Right!” Entrapta cut Hec-Tor off before he could even begin an introduction. “This is Hec-Tor. My spouse. We’re married. I’m married!”

She held up her hand. Which was gloved, and so no one could see if she was wearing a ring or not. 

“Oh.” Perfuma could only blink. It seemed she wasn’t sure quite how she was supposed to react. She still seemed confused. 

“I just wanted you to know that your hypothesis was wrong.” Entrapta informed her. “I can only assume you did not account for all the variables and were working off incomplete data. As you can see: I did find someone to be with.”

A tendril of hair coiled around Hec-Tor’s hands, the strands intertwining with her fingers. It was remarkably like holding hands, only they weren’t holding hands. 

Perfuma’s face turned a bright, mortified shade of pink. And Hec-Tor got the distinct impression that more was going on here than just introducing him to another royal lady of Etheria. There was some personal… something going on between the two women. Something he did not understand, but was suddenly pulled into the middle of. Hec-Tor watched the color in her face deepen from bright pink to deeper red. 

“I-“ she began through clenched teeth, “I’m happy you were able to find such a harmonious match.” Perfuma put on what was supposed to be a smile, but it wasn’t a cheerful one. It was like the suffering grins Imp would give when taking a photo. An unpleasant stretching of the lips to show teeth, but without any joy in it. “Excuse me, the aura’s are a little thick over here.”

Perfuma fled. 

Hec-Tor waited until she disappeared into the crowd before he turned to Entrapta and asked, “Your rival?”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Entrapta explained, her hair letting go of his hand. 

Hec-Tor made an odd croaking sound with his throat. That was not what he was expecting. He knew Entrapta must have had lovers. She was too knowledgeable about sex on their wedding night to have been a virgin. Since she had lovers before him and did not have lovers now, then –obviously- she had to have sex-lovers. He just wasn’t expecting her to drag him over to one and shove him in said ex-lover’s face. 

“I’m gonna observe some specimens.” Entrapta announced. “The food table is over there.” She pointed. “So you can take your medications.”

He was carrying his meds and supplements in a small clutch purse. 

Entrapta vanished from his side before he could reply. 

Without his partner to escort, and with nothing else to do, Hec-Tor did what she suggested and drifted over to the craft services table to fill a plate with tiny, party serving sized food and a glass of water to take his meds with. 

He was just washing down his pills with some spiced juice when someone he did not expect to see on Etheria at all, came striding up to him. 

Before he even knew what was happening, Hec-Tor was pulled into a tight bear-hug and squeezed so tight, he almost spit up all the medication he just gulped down. 

“Hec-Tor!” Roared the one who had accosted him. 

A great beast of a man. Shorter than him, but wide and thick. Arms and shoulders bulging with muscles, face covered in a thick beard of auburn hair. He was wearing a brocade vest over a tunic that fell just short of his knees. His bare legs below it bulging with just as much muscle as his arms. Eternian-style boots on his feet. A gold crown atop his head. 

Hec-Tor gasped the moment he was let go. Not just because he was surprised to see him, mostly because he just had all the air squeezed out of him and, while his species didn’t need much oxygen, he did still need to breath. 

“Randor!?” He managed to heave before having to swallow suddenly to keep his medications down. “What are you doing here?”

Randor was Keldor’s youngest brother, Hec-Tor’s brother-in-law (or, former brother-in-law now that his marriage to Keldor was ended?) and he was the King of Eternia. 

This was not Eternia. 

“I’m escorting my daughter.” Randor announced. He leaned over the food service table and filled an empty mug he had with him from a barrel at the end of the table labeled ‘shiraz’. He filled it to the brim, then took a long sip from it before continuing. “She’s engaged to the daughter of our hosts tonight. Princess Glimmer.”

“Engaged!?” Echoed Hec-Tor. “Adora cannot be engaged, she’s just a child.”

Giving a bark of a laugh, Randor took another long sip of his drink. Gulping it down hard, almost draining the mug. Then refilled it before continuing. “I know right! She’s my baby girl! Hard to believe she’s already eighteen.”

Randor tipped his mug in the direction he’d just come from. Hec-Tor followed the line of sight until he saw two women sitting on a sofa pushed against a far wall. One, he assumed must be Princess Glimmer, Angella and Micah’s child. 

She was stocky, and thick-built with a wide curve to her hips. Golden skin, and two-tone pink and purple hair that sparked in the lights. The other woman was unmistakably Adora. Hec-Tor hadn’t seen her in the flesh since she was an infant, but she resembled the most recent pictures he’d seen of the Eternian Princess. Long flaxen hair, currently pulled back into a ponytail, a bit of a poof at the top. She was wearing a sleeveless red dress with a lighter red tabard overlay. More of an Etherian style than an Eternian one. Clearly dressing to impress her intended. 

Except the two women were sitting with their backs to each other. Adora with her arms crossed over her chest, Glimmer with her hands gripping the cushions in frustration. 

Hec-Tor shook his head. It seemed nobody went into an arranged marriage really liking their intended. Love was not something that struck a person suddenly like lightning. Love was something that grew slowly and developed over time. 

“She cannot be eighteen already. She was born just yesterday!” Hec-Tor remembered he and Keldor traveled from Horde World to Eternia to celebrate the birth of Randor’s twins together. 

The boy, Adam, and his twin sister, Adora. That was the first time in his life Hec-Tor had ever held a baby. He and his own twin were the youngest of their generation and –at that point- Brother and Par-Is had not managed to produce a living child. Hec-Tor remembered Marlena showing how to hold baby Adora properly, supporting the head for her since her tiny newborn body lacked the strength to do it herself. 

He remembered Randor shoving Adam into Keldor’s arms. They were newborn infants, only a few weeks old, yet –somehow- Adam managed to grab a lock of his uncle’s long hair and held it tightly and pulled hard. Keldor yelped in pain as the baby pulled on his hair. ‘You’ve made a life-long enemy this day, you royal boob!’ he remembered Keldor growling at little Adam. 

Randor laughed again. “Yeah… it does feel like just yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Adora and Adam were thirteen when Keldor went missing, and Imp was hatched from the vitrine. Keldor had been missing five years now, Imp was five years old, and Adora was eighteen and legally old enough to get married by Eternian law. Crazy how time flew by. 

“And how’s my nephew?” Randor was refilling his drink again when he asked that. 

“A menace.” Hec-Tor answered, an affectionate smile on his face. 

“Ha! Like Keldor!” Randor also gave an affectionate smile. “You know he punched me in the face before my coronation.” A pause. “I deserved it, of course, but still. He’s the only asshole in the universe ballsy enough to punch the soon-to-be King of Eternia in the face.”

Hec-Tor remembered Randor speaking his vows or lordship and taking the throne with a large purple and blue blotch on the side of his face. Not just a black eye, it was a real shiner. The brow swollen so that the eye was half-shut, with a halo of dark purple extending almost as far as his ear. Hec-Tor wasn’t present to witness the actual hit, he was held back on Horde World by business, so he arrived late, only in time for the coronation itself. When he asked Keldor why his little brother looked like he’d been in a bar fight, all Keldor had said was ‘talk shit, get hit’. 

“Keldor always was very bold.” Hec-Tor said, thinking it sounded diplomatic enough and hoping his cheeks were not coloring. He was remembering all the times Keldor managed to convince him to make love in inappropriate places. His office, the palace gardens, the Enlisted’s aft locker rooms aboard Monstron… Out loud he said, “He invited himself along, the first time after our marriage that I had to leave Horde World on military business.”

“Keldor never could turn down a fight.” Randor nodded. He gazed into his mug of shiraz, staring at his reflection in the wine. A distant and forlorn expression on his face. He was missing his brother. “I wish we found him.” He said. “I wish- …we could have gotten closure. Even if it was just to bury his body.” He took another gulp of his drink. “I still see him some times. I mean, I’ll think I see him. I’ll see a Gar from behind, wearing belts with the bones or the skull designs he used to like and I’ll call out to them. But then they’ll turn and it won’t be him. It’s never him.” 

Randor drained his drink and refilled it again. 

“One time, I followed someone I thought was him. I was so stupid! Years ago, when he was just newly disappeared. I was taking my twins on a tour of the planet and we were in one of the villages near the border of the Dark Hemisphere. I saw a Gar dressed how Keldor usually dressed. The leather loincloth with the armored bits hanging down, those belts with the bones crossed on the chest, light shoulder plating for armor. Except he was wearing a hood over his head, so I couldn’t see his face. Completely covered. And I thought ‘maybe that is Keldor, maybe he’s hiding for some reason’. So I followed him. It was so dumb. I followed him all the way into the Dark Hemisphere, we were almost at Snake Mountain before he finally managed to shake me off his tail. And I just kept wandering between the rocks like a moron. I didn’t even realize how foolish I was being, until Man-at-Arms found me and dragged me back. My children were so confused.”

“If only it could have been that easy.” Hec-Tor muttered, looking at his feet. 

“If only.” Randor agreed, draining his wine again and refilling it yet another time. 

The two of them stood there in silence. 

They didn’t really have much in common aside from Keldor. There wasn’t much else to talk about. 

Then the music changed. From the soft, easy to tune out melody that had been playing since Hec-Tor and Entrapta entered the palace, to a faster paced rhythm. The kind of music that made a person want to get up and start moving their bodies to. 

Seeming to drop from the ceiling, Entrapta appeared at his side again. “Hec-Tor! It’s time for the first dance to start!”

Then, before he could say anything more, he once again found himself encircled in Entrapta’s hair and was being pulled across the room. 

Dancing with Entrapta –or, more accurately, dancing with her hair- was the oddest experience for Hec-Tor. The steps called for the partners to hold each other. Hands on shoulders or waists as the partners turned about the room. But Entrapta did not touch people with her hands –even gloved-, instead she used her hair. One tendril on his shoulder, one tendril encircling his waist. More hair on the floor, lifting her up to be closer to his eye level. 

She spun him around the room, the colored glowing orbs twirled in the air above them, making Hec-Tor almost dizzy. He looked back down at her, focusing on her face as a point of stability. Entrapta was smiling at him. 

“I never thought I’d have a partner for one of these events.” She told him. 

It was one of those times when her energy and enthusiasm was infectious and Hec-Tor couldn’t help but smile back. It actually was very fun. The lights, and the music, and being held and spun by a partner with a firm hold that he trusted not to drop him, or to catch him if he should begin to feel faint. 

Then the dance reached a point where everyone had to switch partners, and Hec-Tor suddenly found himself held in the arms of another. 

“How are you liking our world, Prince Hec-Tor?” Asked Micah, his arms the ones around Hec-Tor now. 

“It is different from the capital.” He answered diplomatically. 

Then they changed partners again. 

Adora lifted Hec-Tor up off the floor, displaying a level of strength that was impressive for her size. “I saw you talking with my father. Tell him I don’t care what he says, I’m not getting married.”

“You might feel differently once you are married.” Hec-Tor told her. He certainly did. Both times, in fact. 

“I’m not getting married.” She growled again as she set him back down and spun him into the arms of another. 

Hec-Tor was thrown off balance but, thankfully, caught in the gentle pincers of Scorpia. “Do you think Catra is enjoying the party? I hope she’s been having fun with me.”

Meanwhile, Adora shifted on the dancefloor into the arms of the very person Scorpia was asking about. 

“Hey, blondie.” Catra smirked at the partner that had just landed in her arms. 

Adora threw on a taunting smile of her own. Meeting Catra’s eyes and matching her smirk. “Who are you supposed to be? The Princess from the Kingdom of Bad Hair.”

“Ooh, you’re feisty.” Catra spun herself in Adora’s arms and leaned her back against her, resting her face just under Adora’s chin. “Are you the Princess of Failed Insults?”

Before Adora could answer, they switched partners again. Catra twirled away smirking, she liked getting in the last word. 

When the music shifted, the partner switching reversed, following the same pattern. Hec-Tor passed from Scorpia, back to Adora. “Uncle Keldor would understand, if he were here.” She hissed at him. “He’d take my side. If you wanna honor his memory, you should too.”

“It is not my business what marriages you father arranges for you.” Hec-Tor informed her as he was spun away. 

Micah held him again. “I see you’ve met Princess Adora. My Glimmer feels a little betrayed. Angella and I were a love-match and were not arranged. She thinks us arranging her marriage to Adora of Eternia is hypocritical.”

“As I told Adora, it is no business of mine.” Hec-Tor informed him. 

Finally, he was back in the arms –the hair- of Entrapta. 

It was so odd how relieved –and strangely safe- he felt when her hair wrapped itself around him again. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked. “Are you tired?”

“Not very.” He assured her. But it was nice that she was considerate of his condition. 

As affectionate and loving as Keldor was, it did take him a while to get used to and work with Hec-Tor’s limitations and needs. But then, no partner and no marriage was perfect. Entrapta was very clever, creative, and mindful of his conditions. But she was not very affectionate or romantic. She did not seem… very interested in Hec-Tor in that way. 

Which was fine. 

Totally fine. 

Hec-Tor was still pining for his lost first love and was not in the right place emotionally to form new attachments. He was not ready to move on yet. But… It was still nice to be wanted. To know that another person found him… desirable. 

But Entrapta seemed uninterested in him in that way. 

As they spun through the dance floor, Hec-Tor lifted his head. Peering over the crowd, searching for the blond head of Perfuma. Entrapta’s ex-lover. Golden haired, freckled, female, and… healthy. Nothing like Hec-Tor at all. Was that the kind of partner Entrapta desired? 

If it was, what did that matter? They were not together and Entrapta was married to him now. They would not be the first couple to live in a loveless marriage. At least they had a functional and good working relationship. That was more than a lot of arranged marriages had. 

“If it would not be rude to our hosts, I would like to leave soon.” He informed her. “Perhaps, the end of this song.”

“Okay.” Entrapta nodded. “This song.”

They continued to sway to the music. 

If he were with Keldor, his hands would be on Hec-Tor’s ass right about now. Entrapta’s hands weren’t even touching him at all. She held him with her hair, and her hair was very chastely and respectfully placed on his shoulder and upper waist. 

Choosing to be bold, even for just a second, Hec-Tor moved his own hand from Entrapta’s upper waist down to the small of her back. He stopped before it traveled to where the curve of her butt started. He was not ready to go that low just yet. “Is this… alright?”

Her breath hitched and she looked up at him with an expression he didn’t know how to read. Lips parting for a half a moment before a tendril of hair slammed her mask down over her face. “It’s alright.”

She said it was okay, but he already noted on their wedding night that she lowered her mask when she was uncomfortable. So, it was probably not, in fact, ‘alright’. Hec-Tor raised his hand back up to her waist. If she did not want physical intimacy, he would not press her. He certainly wouldn’t like it if she pressed him. He would respect her boundaries. 

Some people were just never meant to have passionate relationships, and that was fine. 

Mutual respect and stability was just as fulfilling.


	19. Just a Bit After Princess Prom

Adora noted when her uncle –former uncle? now that he was remarried was Hec-Tor still her uncle?- when Prince Hec-Tor and his new spouse drifted over to make their formal goodbyes to the hosts. Her future in-laws. Queen Angella and King Micah. They were distracted and not looking at her. 

Her father also stomped over to say goodbye to Hec-Tor. Randor wrapped his arms around the older man in another hug, and lifted the space bat off his feet. Making him gasp, his pale face turning red as all the breath was squeezed out of him. 

All the people that wanted to keep Adora there were distracted. She took the opportunity to leave the ball. 

Exiting through the balcony that overlooked the harbor. She leapt from the balcony railing onto the side of the building. Balancing on nothing more than a narrow ledge, gripping the molding around the window frames for stability. She edged her way to the window that belonged to the bedroom she was given to stay in leading up until her wedding. 

But, as she told her intended, as the told her father, as she told her future in-laws, as she told her estranged uncle-by-marriage that she hadn’t seen in years, as she told almost every person she spoke to since arriving on Etheria: she was not getting married. 

Little did she know that her exit was noticed by someone. 

A shadow, moving with feline reflexes, balancing much easier on the decretive ledges that ran the exterior of the palace than Adora was. The figure got ahead of her, noted the only private balcony whose doors were left open, and assumed that must be blondie’s destination. 

Landing on her balcony, Adora slipped inside and closed the balcony doors after her in one fluid motion. She flicked the lights on, then jumped when she realized someone else was in the room with her. 

“Hey, blondie.” Princess Bad Hair was lounging on a pile of cushions next to the fountain. “The party had a perfectly good door. So strange that you decided to leave off a balcony instead.”

Adora paused, studying her up and down. When they were thrown together on the dance floor Adora took her for yet another Etherian Princess. There were a lot of them. More than she could memorize before the party. Dressed in a tailored suit that hugged her figure nicely, the bowtie left untied to give her a bit of a roguish look. A cat-eyed helmet on her head that at first Adora had taken for a crown. She was dressed about as well as every other princess at the prom. Hell! She was dressed better than Uncle Hec-Tor’s new wife whom wasn’t just an Etherian Princess, but a Princess Imperial as well. 

But, Princesses did not slink through the shadows and break into other Ladies’ rooms for dramatic jump-scare reveals when the lights went on. 

“What do you want?” Adora demanded. 

“Honestly?” She stretched, arching her back, lifting her tail, entending the claws on the tips of her fingers. A very feline stretched which drew attention to the flexibility of her spine, and the roundness of her ass. Adora would be lying if she didn’t admit that she found the feline not-Princess attractive –even with the bad hair- and she looked away when the cat-girl continued speaking. “I wanna see how this plays out. What’s the moody blond from another world gonna do…?”

“I’m not getting married.” Adora announced. 

“So you’ve said.” The cat-girl nodded. “All night. To everyone. Do you think that if you just repeat it enough it’ll come true?”

“Are you here to make sure I go through with it?” Adora demanded. “Some bodyguard my father hired to keep me in line? Like he hired Teela for Adam.”

The cat-girl just stared in incomprehension. She didn’t know who Adam or Teela were. So, she wasn’t hired by King Randor. 

“No, I’m just board.” She stretched again. “I thought there’d be more drama where I’m working right now. My Princess is a little crazy and just got married, but her new husband is still in love with his dead first spouse. So, I thought it’d be more interesting. But all either of them do is work all day in separate rooms of the castle. It’s boring!” She leveled a look at Adora. “You don’t seem boring.”

Adora smirked, she was starting to like this cat-girl. 

“I’m not.” She promised. Between the two of them, Adam and Adora, Adora was definitely the more interesting twin. “And I’m getting out of Brightmoon.”

Turning her back on the intruder, Adora walked to the room’s wardrobe and began stripping off her prom dress. 

Behind her, the cat-girl’s eyes went wide, surprised by her boldness. People didn’t usually strip in front of intruders. People called the guards on intruders. 

Adora pulled out a red leotard. Long sleeved, shoulder pads, a bikini cut at the bottom. Her butt-cheeks peeked out in the back. Eternian clothing. Red boots to match. No longer dressed for a party, Adora turned back around to face her intruder. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” She demanded. 

“Catra.” She nodded. “And you’re Princess Adora of Eternia, engaged to Princess Glimmer of Brightmoon. You’re about the only thing anyone’s been talking about all night.”

“I’m not-“

“You’re not getting married.” Catra waved her off. “Right. Right. So you’ve said.” She looked Adora up and down. The Eternian clothing looked much easier to move around in, perfect for making a get away. “And so you’re planning to escape while everyone else is distracted at the prom.”

Adora glared at her, reexamining her earlier study of Catra and assessing her as a threat. She had a slight figure, a tiny waist and slender limbs. She was not particularly muscular. But she did manage to get from one balcony to another, arriving in the room even before Adora could, and silently too. She was clearly very agile, very fast, and able to conceal her movements. 

“Are you going to stop me?” Demanded Adora, voice a carful warning. If this cat-girl tried to stop her, she would fight, and Eternian Princesses did not go down easily. 

With a very nasal snort, Catra let out a laugh. “Stop you? Where would the fun be in that!? You’re the most interesting thing here. I wanna help you!”

Adora regarded her for a moment. She knew nothing about this woman. She didn’t understand her motives, and she didn’t know if she could trust her. But, she liked her feisty attitude and her snarky sense of humor. It also helped matters that she was an attractive woman around Adora’s age. Adora would be lying if she didn’t admit that she found Catra appealing. 

“I need a spaceship.” Adora announced. 

“There’s plenty of spaceships in Dryl.” Catra announced. 

“My uncle lives in Dryl now.” Adora reminded her. “He’ll turn me back over to my father the moment he’s aware I’m within his borders.”

“Who says he has to know?” Catra asked, a devilish little smirk on her lips. She might not have administrator privileges like Entrapta gave to Hec-Tor, but she had worked and lived in the Crypto Castle enough to know how to navigate it. “The Crypto Castle is the best place to hide until we can get you a ship.”

“And you can navigate me through the magic woods and get me to Dryl?” Adora pressed. 

“Whispering Woods.” Catra corrected her. “And I’ll probably have an easier time of it than you would.” 

That was probably true. If for no other reason than grace of the fact that Catra was a native of Etheria and understood it and its ecosystems better than an off-worlder like Adora would. 

Adora smirked. “Alright. Catra, I’ll let you help me.”

…

Grizzlor was waiting to meet the Prince and Princess upon their arrival back at the Crypto Castle. 

“I trust the Princess Prom went well?” He began with pleasantries. 

He took the Prince’s shawl as Hec-Tor slipped it off his shoulders. 

Then Grizzlor dove into business. “The first shipment of weapons is almost ready. Once they come off the assembly line, we can begin sending them back to Horde World.”

“Excellent.” Hec-Tor smiled. “I shall send a report to my Brother in the morning. In the meantime, I’m tired. No more business tonight. Is my son asleep?”

He should be. It was late enough into the night to be called morning now. Imp’s keepers should have put him down for the night long ago. But, knowing his child, just because he should be asleep did not mean he actually would be asleep. 

Hec-Tor left to go check on his son. 

“Is there anything I can assist you with Princess Entrapta?” Asked Grizzlor. She didn’t have a coat or a shawl for him to take. She was just wearing the exact same set of overalls he had seen her wearing since they left Horde World. 

“No. I’m good.” She smiled at him as she lifted her hair above her head and swung away. Up into the rafters, then from the rafters into the air ducts. 

Grizzlor sighed. Working in the Crypto Castle was so vastly different from serving in the Imperial palace on Horde World. 

Entrapta slipped back into her lab. There was a project she’d been working on since she first returned home. She had been drafting concepts of it the whole journey from Horde World, but was only really able to begin until she was back in her own castle, in her own lab, with her own tools, and her own base robotic frames to build on. 

Moving all the way to the back of the room, flowing on waves of her hair, Entrapta stopped in front of a work table with a sheet draped over it. She pulled the sheet away to reveal the bot she was working on. 

Not a weapon. Not a combat drone. Not any project she was building for the Horde. This was a personal project. This was a… a practice robot. 

Because it wasn’t okay to experiment on living people –not if you wanted them to like you. 

She built a practice robot when she was with Perfuma. To her exact measurements. Height, weight, limb length, joint articulation, flexability. She even added long nylon strands to synthesize her wavy blond hair. But the most important part of a practice bot was the nerve network. 

An array of synthetic nerves meant to mimic real touch and feelings. The purpose of the practice bot was to feel, so that Entrapta could catalogue the reactions and learn what was and what was not a desirable touch for her partner. She showed special attention to the nerves on the hands –the tips of the fingers especially- the lips, the ears, the nipples, and the genitals. 

Entrapta used the bot to try and figure out what she should do for her partner in the event that they wanted to have intercourse with her, because she wanted to have intercourse with them. Entrapta didn’t understand people very well, but she understood data. She took the date from practicing with her bots and carried it into her intimate relationships with organic people. It all made perfect sense to Entrapta. It was practical. 

But when Perfuma discovered the practice bot that had been made of her, she did not react well. She said Entrapta was ‘sick’ and that she would never find anybody to be with. Not with a perversion like hers. 

Hec-Tor’s practice bot was still in the construction phases. He was taller than all the pre-fabricated robot bases she had on hand, and so had to readjust everything for his measurements. She hadn’t even begun connecting the nerves yet. She coiled her hair back into the shape it was when she was holding his hand. Remembering the thickness of his finders and how far apart they spread the strands. Using her tactile memory to make sure the measurements of the hands were correct. If the measurements weren’t correct, then the nerves wouldn’t line up right, or be true to the live person this bot was being made of, and wouldn’t yield accurate data. 

She wanted accurate data. 

Entrapta wanted…

She remembered how her stomach fluttered when Hec-Tor shifted the placement of his hand from her upper waist to the small of her back. His wide palm and long fingers, the talons that almost caught in her clothing but didn’t because he was very aware of what he was doing. 

Entrapta wished she knew how to communicate better. To make him understand what she wanted. 

‘Is this… alright?’ He asked. 

And she wanted to say ‘yes, yes it is, go lower!’ But she felt a little too overwhelmed. Between the lights, and the music, the dancing, the crowd of people around them, and then his hand moving lower on her body. It was too much stimulation and Entratpa forgot how to speak. She had to consciously remind herself ‘use your words’. She was so embarrassed by her own inability to… be a person, that she had to lower her mask. Behind the mask was safe. The mask was a barrier. Between her and the rest of the world that could be too much sometimes. 

She told him it was alright. 

But she already noted that Hec-Tor was observant, and that he was intelligent. He must have already realized that her mask was her comfort and security item. She lowered it when she felt uncomfortable. Wearing it over her face made her feel secure. He probably assumed that he and his action were what was making her uncomfortable, because Hec-Tor moved his hand back up to where it was before. 

Entrapta didn’t know how to communicate to him well enough to make him understand, she did like his hand there. She would have liked his hand lower too. She liked the idea of his hands on her. She wanted more than just his hands on her. 

Their wedding night had not been an ideal time. Entrapta was nervous almost the whole night, even when she was the one in control and calling the steps. She did not like any of it. She didn’t like the level of lighting, she didn’t like the texture of the sheets, she didn’t like feel of the lubricant between her legs, she especially didn’t like a room full of strangers watching her! But Hec-Tor was nice. He was interesting. Fun to study, and fun to… _study_. 

And when they switched positions, when he lowered his face between her legs and… made her feel more comfortable, Entrapta liked that a lot. He was very good at what he did. Of course, he had been previously married for years, one would assume he was very well experienced with sex. 

Entrapta was not very experienced. There were her robots, and there was Perfuma, and then there were her robots again. 

Using her hair, Entrapta lifted the silicone skin she molded to resemble his organ. Just a hollow sheath, she couldn’t put it on the bot until she connected the neural network that would allow it to function like a penis. She dragged a gloved finger over the synthetic spines. Exactly as she remembered them feeling through her glove on the wedding night. 

Entrapta set it back down, she still had a lot of work to do before she could attach that exact fixture. 

Pulling her tools around her, she got back to work. She only worked on the practice bot when Hec-Tor was asleep and not likely to walk in on her and find it. Even so, she hoped that if Hec-Tor did ever find her practice bot, he wouldn’t react as badly as Perfuma had. 

…

Navigating through the Whispering Woods was not as easy as Catra said it would be. She was a native of Etheria, but not a native of Brightmoon and the trees and rocks of the forest moved. Honestly, as things were, Adora, whom had never set foot on Etheria before coming to Brightmoon for her engagement, would be just as good at navigating as Catra was. 

And they both knew it. 

Adora watched Catra hiss and curse at a rock. Her tail all puffed out, claws extended. They had past the same rock about six or seven times already. They knew it was the same rock because after the third time, Catra marked it with her claws. 

They were actually lost. 

But that was fine with Adora. If they were lost, it meant that when Brightmoon finally realized she was missing, they wouldn’t be able to find her either. She could survive in the woods for a bit. At least, long enough to find her way out of them. How many days could that take?

‘Adora…’

She turned at the sound of a voice calling her name. Whispering as if it were nothing but the wind, but it had unmistakably been her own name. 

‘Adora…’

“Is that why they call this place the ‘Whispering’ Woods?” She asked her companion. 

Catra looked back at her confused. “Is what why they call it the Whispering Woods?”

“You can’t hear that?” Adora asked. “That voice, on the wind. It’s whispering my name. It’s not whispering your name?”

‘Adora…’

One of Catra’s ears tilted as she looked at her Princess companion with concern. “You’re hearing voices now?”

Suddenly frustrated –and maybe a little embarrassed- Adora huffed at Catra, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just asking if that’s how the woods got their name. Jeez. Forget I said anything.”

“Fine.” Catra snapped. “Anyway, I think it’s this way.” 

She led Adora on another path through the woods. All the while, the Princess kept hearing that whispering voice, light and airy, like the wind in her ear, calling her. 

‘Adora… Adora…’


	20. Working Together: Keldor

Keldor was reclining on the sofa in their shared sitting room, reading the datacards on Eternia. 

He finished the first two and was on the third now, and could confirm that there was definitely, definitely at least one card (probably more than one) missing from the set. The decimal filing system wasn’t wrong, someone had removed the cards from the Imperial library. Not just taken the datacards off the shelf, but erased their existence from the library’s computer so that no one would know to look for them. 

That was concerning in and of itself. But when reading the datacards that he did have access to, Keldor also soon found that some of the information in the cards that were left was redacted. Whole paragraphs, or even chapters showed as nothing more than pixilated static on the datapad screen. The first time he came across it, it was just a few paragraphs in the chapter he was reading, so Keldor thought it was nothing more than a corrupted file. The Horde’s battles with Eternia happened a long time ago, these cards were probably old. 

But when it kept happening, and so selectively too, Keldor scrolled back to previous chapters and re-read over the parts before and after where it was fuzzed out, trying to figure out from context what had been redacted. 

The first time it happened was describing Princess Mara, a cousin to one of Keldor’s ancestors. Neither she nor her twin ever sat the throne of Eternia, but they were still descendants of King D’Vann Grayskull. Keldor re-read lists recounting her line of descendent and that of her brother. A bit of her early life. Their relationship with their cousins –whom did take the throne- and how they were living and serving Eternia up until they made contact with the Imperial Horde. 

Then, the text spontaneously fuzzed out and became impossible to read. 

It did the same thing in the following chapter which was about Mara’s brother, Gray. 

Also a descendent of the first King Grayskull. Mara’s twin. Royal cousin. Never sat the throne. Still worked in support of his cousins for the betterment of Eternia up until the planet made contact with the Horde Empire. 

Then, the text glitched and pixilated, making it impossible to read anything further. 

The next few chapters after that were similarly corrupted and impossible to read. 

Which was very interesting to Keldor because Mara and her twin were supposed to be the last two wielders of the Swords. The Swords of Eternia’s greatest heroes. Everyone knew the stories. He-Ro, whom wielded the Sword of Power, and He-Ra, whom wielded the Sword of Protection. Eternia’s near-undefeatable defenders. 

Undefeatable, until the Sword of Protection was lost. 

In the battles with the Horde. 

Nobody ever knew what exactly happened. All they knew was that Mara died. Her body was recovered, but the Sword was not. His family always just assumed that the Horde had the Sword. It was the basis for their truce. They needed both Swords to equal enough power to challenge the Horde. Eternia joined the Empire, under the assumption that the Horde had the lost Sword and was holding it hostage. 

Hell! Keldor assumed his marriage to Hec-Tor was arranged because only a descendent of King Grayskull could wield the Sword. So, if Horde Prime wanted to use the weapon, he would need a descendent of D’Vann in his pocket. (Not that Keldor was actually in his pocket, but that was a nuance.)

But, if the Horde had the weapon, why conceal all the information on it? Why delete, or redact, and hide a narrative of just how powerful the weapon was? Wouldn’t the Horde prefer to brag about how powerful this weapon they stole from a conquered world was? Wouldn’t they rather use it as an intimidation tactic? You don’t wanna challenge me, because I have this!

Unless…?

His trail of thought was cut off when Hec-Tor entered the suite. 

Keldor tossed his datapad on a cushion and stood. 

Hec-Tor paused for half a step, his cheeks coloring a self-conscious shade of pink. He stood at parade rest, arms resting behind his back. “I am not too tired.” He announced. “If you would give me a moment to freshen up.” 

For a heartbeat of a moment, Keldor froze. Realizing what the space bat was talking about. His knee-jerk reaction was to be repulsed. He did not want a reprise of their escapade in the office, only with him as the one on his knees. But, Keldor had to remind himself, he wasn’t doing this for his own pleasure and enjoyment. He was doing this to keep Hec-Tor happy. Because Hec-Tor might one day be Horde Prime. 

Hec-Tor could be ruler of the Known Universe, which would make Keldor also a ruler of the Known Universe.

It wasn’t for the pleasure, it was for the power. He had to remind himself of the power. 

So, it was with a suggestive grin on his face that he asked, “Your bed or mine?”

“Mine, if it is not too selfish.” He answered. 

“That’s not selfish at all.” Keldor hoped his smile didn’t look too fake. “I think I’ll take a moment to freshen up too.”

Keldor fled the sitting room. His own bedroom nothing but a blur of motion as he made a B-line for his bathroom. He braced his hands on the opulent marble counter of his sink, and glared at his reflection in the mirror, one strand of ebony hair falling over his face. Meeting his own brown eyes in the reflection, he growled. 

He could do this. It was just sex, and sex was no big deal. He did it all the time before he was married. He could do it after he was married. Just make sure to use plenty of lube and try not to clench up. Otherwise those horrifying barbs definitely, definitely would tear something. 

Like his mother said, just close his eyes, bite the pillow, and think of Eternia. 

Except Keldor would be thinking of becoming Emperor of the Known Universe. 

Fuck Eternia! Eternia threw him away! No… no, that was unfair. Miro threw him away. Eternia did not have an opinion. But Keldor would show him. Keldor would endear himself to the husband that was arranged for him. Wrap Hec-Tor around his finger. Then, when their relationship was solid and there was no question of Hec-Tor’s loyalty or devotion, Keldor would remove the current Horde Prime from the picture. With no living children, the title would pass to Hec-Tor and Keldor could rule through him. 

It was a perfect plan!

Except for the whole, having sex with Hec-Tor part. 

Taking another deep breath, and steadying his nerves, Keldor consciously forced himself to relax. Going through mental techniques that were usually only taught to warriors to calm themselves before a battle. He never imagined someone needing to use them to calm down before sleeping with their spouse. Measure breathing, be aware of heartrate, note tension on the muscles. Take a breath, hold it, exhale. Unclench your teeth. Open your fists. Take control of your body and force it to relax. The mind is the body’s master. The mind commands and the body obeys. 

When Keldor was confident he at least did not appear nervous or tense, he pulled a brush through his hair to look presentable for his husband, and stripped out of his clothing –since Hec-Tor seemed to have trouble with his belt buckle earlier. No clothes at all seemed more appropriate. 

He grabbed a robe to pull over his shoulders as he was passing back through his bedroom, since nudity also seemed to make Hec-Tor flustered and uncomfortable. 

The sitting room was not overly large, but crossing the space felt like journeying across a vast expanse. And yet, he got to his destination all too quickly. 

The door to Hec-Tor’s room. 

Plastering a smile on his face, hoping it was a believable smile, Keldor knocked on the door. 

“Just a moment!” Called Hec-Tor’s voice through the door. There was an extended pause. Then, finally, “Come in!”

Keldor didn’t know what he was expecting to walk into when he opened the door. But he did know that he was not expecting to walk in to find that Hec-Tor had dimed the lights and lit several eclectic candles. Hec-Tor himself was reclining on the bed wearing a black teddy nightgown with red lace. The whole set-up seemed so ridiculous.

‘Don’t laugh! Don’t laugh! Don’t laugh!’ Keldor told himself furiously. Then he felt his face begin to crack and knew he was just breaths away from snorting and laughing in his husband’s face. ‘Use it! Use it! Use it!’

Holding in his laughter, Keldor let the smile stretch across his lips. Hopefully, Hec-Tor would think he liked what he saw. “What’s the occasion?”

Fiddling with the lacy hem of the teddy, Hec-Tor’s cheeks colored pink. “I just wanted to do something to impress you.” He answered honestly. “You’re so confident and bold, I just… don’t want you to think I’m… frigid.”

Keldor would have preferred it if he was. Instead, he crossed the space to join Hec-Tor on the bed and rested a hand on his leg. “I know you’re not frigid.”

Hec-Tor ran a talon over the collar of Keldor’s robe. “I think, for once, you’re wearing more clothing than me.”

“Clothing has no place in the bedroom.” Keldor told him, leaning in. He slipped one of the shoulder straps of Hec-Tor’s teddy off his shoulder. “You should take it off me. And I’ll take this off you.”

“You don’t like it?” The red flush of his cheeks deepened, this time with mortification. 

Honestly, Keldor thought it looked ridiculous. Satin, chiffon, and lace. If Hec-Tor really wanted to impress him, he should throw on a little leather and fur. “I like seeing you without anything in the way.” 

Hec-Tor looked startled for a moment, and Keldor froze, hesitating. Second guessing himself. Was he laying it on too thick? They were still getting to know each other. Was it believable that Keldor liked his body so much right away? Hec-Tor was self-conscious about his body. Did he not believe Keldor’s sincerity? Of course, if Hec-Tor were smart he wouldn’t believe him. Keldor was lying through his teeth. 

Hec-Tor moved the strap that Keldor slid off back into place, and moved the other arm to cover his chest. Yup. Self-conscious and shy. 

“My body is… not the healthiest.” He admitted. “I know I am not very attractive. You do not have to say nice things to make me feel good.” 

Keldor smirked. “I thought the whole point was to make you feel good.”

“I-“

Before Hec-Tor could get out whatever the rest of his statement was going to be, Keldor pushed him back against the pillows. Lifting one skinny leg to gain better access. 

Hec-Tor gasped when he felt Keldor’s lips press against the inside of his thigh. Keldor felt the slight muscle under the skin tense in shock, then relax. He trailed kisses up the inside of the thigh, making Hec-Tor gasp and twitch with every touch. Pausing when he got to the juncture between the legs, exhaling a deep sigh, breathing warm tickling Hec-Tor’s balls. 

The space bat twitched and giggled, the sensation making him shudder. 

Keldor shifted his position, rolling over to give the same treatment to the other thigh. Kissing gently, trailing upwards to the juncture between the legs. Feeling the muscles twitch under his lips. 

Then he ran out of leg and Keldor couldn’t avoid it anymore. 

Trying not to hesitate, his tongue flicked out to lick at Hec-Tor’s ball sack. 

Hec-Tor flinched at the sensation. 

So, Keldor held his legs down as he continued. 

Tongue sliding over the sensitive skin, feeling the way the outer layers pulled over the delicate organs inside. Above him, Hec-Tor gasped and moaned at the sensation. Then Keldor took one ball in his mouth and sucked gently. 

Hec-Tor arched his back. Moaning loudly at the sensation. He tried to sit up, but Keldor pushed him back down. 

“I haven’t even gotten to your dick yet.” He said. “Just relax.”

Keldor lowered his face back down between Hec-Tor’s legs, pushing the lacy hem of the teddy up to give better access. He resumed sucking on the ball sack, running his tongue over it, and slathering the area with spit. 

When he was pretty sure he’d exhausted everything that could be done with balls, Keldor raised his head a little bit to look at the Hec-Tor’s stiff cock. He’d stalled for about as long as he could. Keldor wrapped his mouth around the tip. Sliding down a fraction of a fraction, until he felt the first few barbs prick against his lips. Then he stopped. Sucking gently. Only the head. 

“You are a merciless tease.” Hec-Tor whined, bucking his hips, trying to force his dick deeper into his partner’s mouth. 

“I can’t deep-throat like you can.” Keldor muttered to the shaft of spines. Actually, he didn’t want it inside his mouth at all, never mind down his throat. “Unlike you, I have a pretty strong gag-reflex.”

“You don’t have to deep-throat me.” Hec-Tor tried to sit up again, and this time Keldor let him. He leaned in to kiss his husband on the lips. “I just want us to enjoy ourselves.”

Adjusting his position so they could both sit, Hec-Tor leaned in for another kiss. Deeper this time, open mouth, and slippery tongue. His hands slid up Keldor’s chest to push the robe off his shoulders. 

Hec-Tor took a moment to really appreciate Keldor’s skin. Not just the dusky blue color that was an almost perfect uniform shade, no discoloration like his own, but also smooth, soft to the touch, the only blemishes slight scars here and there. He was too nervous on their wedding night to really appreciate his new husband’s body. 

He dragged a thumb over one scar just below the collar bone. A jagged line, it was smooth, but a different shade of blue from the skin around it. “This looks like it was bad.”

“That’s just a training scratch.” Keldor scoffed, suddenly feeling more comfortable. He could talk about his scars. Scars were easy. He turned and moved his hair out of the way so that Hec-Tor could get a good look at what remained of a gash that ran between his two shoulder blades. The one who dealt the blow had been trying to take his head off, so the line was almost perfectly horizontal, only the slightest bit of a diagonal angle to the slice. “This one was bad!”

Keldor felt Hec-Tor run his hand over it. It was rougher than the rest of his scars, the skin knitted together with uneven ridges, making the line feel course, the skin was a darker shade of blue than the rest of him and the line itself ridged and scratchy from healing. 

“How did- -this happen?” He asked. 

Keldor turned back around to see his face. He liked seeing people’s expressions and different reactions when he told this story. “It was in the final battle with the Snake Men when we finally took the fortress at Snake Mountain.” He explained. “My father ordered me to the vanguard.”

Those glowing crimson eyes blinked for a moment, processing what Keldor just said. It took him a couple moments, but he saw it on his face before he said anything. “Why… were you ordered to the vanguard? You’re a Prince, your place should have been behind the lines with the rest of the commanders.”

And there it was. 

Even back then, his father didn’t want him. Wanted him out of the way. His firstborn son whom was half-Gar and thus unfit to rule. Miro was hoping ordering Keldor to the vanguard would be the simplest way to get rid of him. That he would parish in a blaze of glory fighting their enemies. That after he was gone, they would write songs about him. Keldor, the half-blood Prince who loved his world and his peoples so much he was ready to die for them. Miro could praise him in death like he would never praise him in life. Meanwhile, with Keldor out of the way, and Stephan uninterested in the throne, the way would be cleared for Randor, Miro’s favorite son. 

Except Keldor didn’t die. He and his unit broke through the Snake Men’s defenses, breached their barriers, and made it into the fortress at Snake Mountain. Paving the way for the rest of Miro’s forces to surge in after him and take the enemy stronghold. 

“When did this happen?” Hec-Tor continued to stare at him, confusion and concern mingling on his face. “When we were married, you mentioned you were barely old enough to marry by Eternian law.”

And the scar was not fresh. 

“On Eternia you have to be eighteen to be married, but you can join the military as young as fourteen.” Keldor informed him. 

He could see Hec-Tor counting and doing mental math, trying to calculate how many Eternian years equated to how many years on Horde World. Then he nodded. “That is the age I was enrolled in the Horde Academy.” He admitted. “But, even if I were healthy, I would not have seen active combat until I graduated –which would be equivalent to an Eternian age of sixteen or seventeen.”

Keldor only shrugged. “We like our fights, on Eternia.” Then he paused, the rest of what Hec-Tor said finally registering in his mind. “Wait, have you never seen active combat? You’ve never been in a fight?”

“Fighting is for clones and Enlisted.” Hec-Tor informed him, repeating almost the exact same thing he said before their wedding. “The only fight I’ve ever been in was when you dragged me out of the castle to that low-life tavern.”

“How can you command the Horde’s military if you’ve never even been in a battle?” Keldor demanded. 

Such a thing was unheard of on Eternia. Even if he hadn’t been ordered to the vanguard by his father, Keldor still would have fought along side his troops. On Eternia, Princes and Kings fought and bled alongside their soldiers. That was how it was done. How could the crown expect their Heroic Warriors to fight for them, if the crown wasn’t willing to fight for them in return. 

“A commander’s job is behind the lines. Commanding.” Hec-Tor repeated. 

Keldor just continued to stare at him. 

“But a commander also needs to understand battle.” He argued. “Not just strategy. Not just terrain, and numbers, and moving pieces. You need to know how the chaos of a battle effects a soldier’s mind. The noise, the motion. How death cries sound different when it’s someone you know. How the ground gets slippery with the fluids. How, when your adrenaline is pumping, and blood and the shit sprays, when all you can smell is death, and all you can see is the person in front of you who wants to kill you… it changes something in your brain. The conscious mind checks out and you become something other than yourself. Something primal and base.”

With a sigh, Hec-Tor stood from the bed. He flicked the lights back up to standard and began turning off the electric candles. 

Keldor blinked, as if being snapped out of a trance. He looked up at his husband, confused. 

“Forgive me, but I do not find talk of blood and shit spraying very sexy.” He informed Keldor. 

“Why not?” Even as the words were out of his mouth, Keldor wondered why he was arguing. He was being given a free out. Hec-Tor wasn’t in the mood anymore. He did not have to have sex with the space-bat. “Blood and shit are natural, and sex and violence are the bodies two most basic desires.” (Second two most basic desires, actually, thirst and hunger were higher on the list of ‘Basic Desires’, also breath and sleep, but that was a nuance.)

Standing by the bed, Hec-Tor assumed another parade rest, legs slightly parted, arms folded behind his back. The stiff military pose looked so odd in the context of the bedroom while he was wearing nothing more than a lacy teddy that barly covered his still half-hard dick. “Blood and feces are unsanitary.”

Grabbing his robe from where it had been discarded on the bed, Keldor also stood, slipping it over his shoulders and tying the sash shut. 

“They’re messy.” Keldor agreed. “So is battle. So is war. So is ruling a country. That’s why Princes must be trained to deal with a mess.”

He closed the shot space between them, pressing his chest against Hec-Tor’s. Or, more accurately, puffing his chest out and pressing his pectorals against the other man’s diaphragm, since the space bat was so tall. 

“Your Brother wants to expand the Empire, but you don’t have enough troops to do that while maintaining the territories already under your control. That’s messy.” Keldor informed him. “You are dealing with a mess.” He brushed a lock of ebony hair back behind his pointed ear. “Luckily, I happen to have some experience with sorting out messes. Tomorrow we’ll go over the number together and I’ll see what the Empire can actually do.”

“That is my job, you don’t need to concern yourself-“

Hec-Tor’s statement was cut off when Keldor pushed him back down onto the bed. He pressed his lips to the space bat’s. When their lip’s parted, Keldor ran a hand along the sharp angle of Hec-Tor’s cheek bone, caressing his face. “You know I can be of use to you outside the bedroom too. Married people should help each other.” He reminded his husband. “Let me help you.”

“I’m not sure my brother would approve…” 

Keldor silenced him with another kiss. Pushing him all the way down on the bed so they were laying again. “So don’t tell him until after you’ve given him a couple new planets.” Keldor muttered into one of the ports on his neck. “My brothers and I always found it was much easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.”

“Eternians are so undisciplined…” Hec-Tor muttered to the ceiling. But his hands slid up Keldor’s back, wrinkling the fabric of his robe. 

“Eternians get things done.” Keldor corrected. 

…

Keldor didn’t know when exactly Hec-Tor got up to start his day. They didn’t share a bedroom, and so one never woke the other when they got out of bed. But, he assumed it could not be any earlier than Keldor himself got for his morning exercises. 

So, in the hopes of meeting up with his husband before he sequestered himself in his office for the day, Keldor began his exercises in the shared sitting room instead of his bedroom like he usually did. 

Keldor was on his second set of reps before Hec-Tor emerged from his room, already dressed but yawning. He stopped short when he saw Keldor using the couch to perform raised-leg seated twists. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“Waiting for you.” Keldor finished the motion he was in the middle of before getting up and stretching to make sure the muscles stayed nice and loose. He flicked his hair over his shoulder. “Since we’ll be working together today, I figured we should start together. Now I haven’t had breakfast yet and I assume you haven’t either. You need to take your meds with food, right? Let’s get something to eat.”

He hooked his arms in Hec-Tor’s and pulled him from the room. 

The many, many, many dining rooms and parlors were some of the things Keldor found during his explorations of the Imperial place and he dragged Hec-Tor to one that overlooked the gardens. The view was not all that impressive at the moment. The most recent storm had stripped the beds and buried the paths. It looked less like a ‘garden’ and more like a ‘sand trap’. All that could be seen from the windows were the servants, digging out the paths and replanting the beds. 

Servants set the table. Yogurt with fresh fruit, and herbal tea for Hec-Tor. Eggs and potatoes, and black coffee for Keldor. 

“I usually take breakfast in my office.” Hec-tor informed him. But that was his only protest. Keldor noted that he didn’t hesitate to sit down with him to share breakfast. 

“And I usually eat alone.” Since coming to Horde World. Since his arrived on Horde World Keldor had eaten along almost every day except for the one lunch he shared with Par-Is. On Eternia he almost never ate alone. He would have breakfast with his mother. Lunch with Heroic Warriors, or his magic instructors. Unscheduled snacks with his brothers, Randor was still fairly small and his hands could fit in containers that Stephan and Keldor’s could not. Dinner with his father. 

“I…” Hec-Tor averted his eyes, cheeks coloring. “Would like to share more meals with you, but I am always so busy.”

“But you do have meals.” Keldor pointed out. “So, make me come to you. If you’re so busy you can’t leave your work to come and eat with me, make me come to your work and eat with you.”

“I would never demand-“

“It’s not a demand if I’m offering.” Keldor cut him off. “Besides, after spending the day working with me, you might decide you don’t like my company as much. I’ve been told I’m much easier to get along with in small doses.” He took a bite of his food.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Insisted Hec-Tor. “I have enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you thus far.”

That was a bold-face lie and they both knew it. Keldor was certain the space bat had not enjoyed a moment of their excursion out of the castle in Eternos. From the moment Keldor pushed him over the wall, Hec-Tor hated it. He clung to Keldor and held his hand tightly as they walked the streets. He refused to drink with him. He passed out the moment the first started. Keldor knew that Hec-Tor had not, in fact, enjoyed ‘every moment’ they spent together. So, who was he lying to, Keldor or himself?

“Well, good.” Keldor decided not to call out the obvious lie. “Because I’m not leaving you alone until we’ve found out a solution to your problem. Now, eat. You’ll need your energy.”

…

Hec-Tor was one of the most frustrating people Keldor had ever worked with. And he had worked with Zanthor, keeper of the Golden Disks of Knowlage. Keldor didn’t think any academic could be as tedious as that guy! But here was Prince Hec-Tor Kur, the brow-beaten bookkeeper of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. 

Keldor tried to read a datapad displaying the numbers of clone units and success rates of Enlisted from the Horde Academy, and compared them to a 3D projected map of the current Horde Empire with pockets of unrest or civil disobedience marked in yellow, and outright rebellion marked in red. All the while, with Hec-Tor leaning over his shoulder. And it was taking every ounce of mental conditioning Keldor ever received in his life to keep from snapping at him. 

He tried to ignore Hec-Tor’s breath on his ear as he studied the information in front of him. One of the reasons why Empires fell was over-expansion. Horde Prime wanted to expand right now, even though the worlds he already held were not completely under his control and stable. An Empire needed to be stable before it could be expanded. There was no point in ingratiating himself to Hec-Tor if the whole damn thing was collapsed by the time he got to rule it. 

“Part of your problem is efficiency with your troop deployment.” Keldor pointed out. Since he seemed content to peer over his shoulder at everything, Hec-Tor might as well learn something. “You’re spending the exact same ratios of clone to Enlisted troops on Zal-Kron as you do on Robotica.”

“What do you mean?” Hec-Tor asked, not seeing a problem. It was standard procedure for the Horde. 

“The crystal-humanoids of Zal-Kron are creative and think in multiple facets.” Keldor reminded him. “Clones don’t. Clones barely think at all. They’re not adaptable. Deploying clones to Zal-Kron is basically just throwing them away. The crystal-humanoids will just mow them down. But Enlisted are people from your loyal-held worlds. They’ve had childhoods, and educations, and experiences that taught them how to think. They come from all over your Empire which makes them diverse, and from their diverse backgrounds they’ve all passed through the same Horde Academy. That makes them adaptable. You should recall your clones from Zal-Kron and replace them with Enlisted. Transfer them to Robotica where they would be more effective against the roboticans. Leave a few Enlisted officers to direct the clones, but let the bulk of the force be clone troopers because creativity is not necessary to hold Robotica, you only need force.”

Hec-Tor frowned, glaring at the projection of the Empire, eyes flicking down to the datapad held in his husband’s hand. Keldor could practically hear the metaphorical gears in his head turning. “That is not how things are done in the Horde.”

“Right, right, right.” Keldor brushed off the comment. “Standard Horde strategy is just to overwhelm any opponent until they break. That’s why you’re called ‘the Horde’. But at this very moment, you don’t have a surplus of cannon fodder to swarm over the universe. So, what you do have, you need to divide up in the most effective way possible. Move the clones on Zal-Kron to Robotica and transfer the Enlisted there to make up for the difference.”

“There are not as many Enlisted as there are clones.” Hec-Tor pointed out. “Clones can be made much more quickly than an Enlisted can be trained.”

Keldor rolled his eyes and glanced at the chronometer on the wall. They’d been at this for two hours. It was time for a break. 

Setting the datapad down, Keldor stood. He came around to the front of the desk where there was the most open floor space and began a new exercise rep. Beginning by lying flat on his belly, then propping himself up on only his toes and his forearms. 

“What are you doing?” Asked Hec-Tor. 

“The plank.” Keldor supplied. 

“I can see that, I mean, why? We are working.” To illustrate this, Hec-Tor sat back down in the desk chair Keldor had just vacated. 

“I’m taking a break, and you should too.” Keldor informed him, eyes focusing on the chronometer on the wall to count how long he could hold his plank. Keldor had to let go a little after two minutes. He was out of practice and getting out of shape living on Horde World, before, he used to be able to hold a plank for a full three minutes. 

“I will break when it is lunch time.” Hec-Tor informed him. 

Rolling over, Keldor sat up. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he began a sitting toe-touch. “Or, you could take a break right now so you don’t get burned out and are too tired for other things at the end of the day.”

“Other things?” Hec-Tor grinned at him from behind the desk. 

Keldor knew exactly what he was thinking about. He opted not to confirm or deny that was what he was implying. “Yeah. Other things. There is more to life than just work and sleep. Back on Eternia I did lots of stuff besides sit quietly and study statecraft and magic.”

“I’m sure you did.” Hec-Tor scoffed, probably remembering their escape from the castle. 

“I did.” Keldor confirmed. “And even between all my diversions and misadventures, I still became an accomplished sorcerer and a competent warrior.”

“There isn’t enough time in the day.” Hec-Tor looked down at his desk. He deactivated the map projection and ejected the datacard with the latest troop census. There were other matters that needed to be dealt with and that he could deal with quickly and get them off his desk while he deliberated on more complicated matters. 

Ending his toe-touch, Keldor laid back down and bent his knees. “Try taking a break. Just for a couple minutes.” He said. “Come over here and stand on my feet while I do some sit-ups.”

It looked like Hec-Tor was trying to ignore him. Eyes turning down, attention focused on whatever he was reading on his datapad. Keldor just laid on the floor, watching him. After a prolonged pause, Hec-Tor sighed. He stood and came around the desk to stand in front of Keldor. 

He placed one foot over his husband’s boot, but did not put any weight on it. “This won’t take long?”

“Not long at all.” Keldor promised. “I keep my reps to ten or fifteen, but do multiple sets.”

He could see on his face that those words meant nothing to Hec-Tor. Reps and sets. Those were not things he did in his daily life. 

Hec-Tor allowed some of his weight to rest on Keldor’s boot. When the other man didn’t object, or display any discomfort, he added the other foot, placing the full weight of his body on Keldor’s feet. “And I am not too heavy?”

Keldor fought the instinct to laugh. “No. You’re not too heavy.”

He began his sit ups. Abdominals flexing to lift him up. Knees spreading ever-so-slightly as he lifted himself up. He was not even five sit-ups into his rep when Hec-Tor began to blush. 

“Something wrong?”

Hec-Tor looked away, trying to cover his face with a hand to hide his embarrassment. “The view is… quite provocative.”

“Oh. Provocative.” Keldor smirked. Keeping his knees bent, he spread his thighs until both legs were laying flush against the carpet. The bulge of his crotch through the leather of his loincloth on full display. “You mean like this?”

His already red face deepened to shade Keldor didn’t even know space bats were capable of. “I- I would ask you not to make such indecent a display in my officer, but we have already done much, much worse in here.” Hec-Tor stepped off Keldor’s feet and folded his arms behind his back. Not quite a military parade rest, but close enough. “All I can ask is that you refrain from such lude behavior during work hours.”

Giving up on his exercise reps, Keldor sprang back to his feet. Doing an impressive lean-back-and-flip maneuver that was overly showy and completely unnecessary. 

“Gosh, how did you survive when you came to Eternia for our wedding.” He asked. Mostly teasing, partly because he genuinely wanted to know. Hec-Tor was so prudish and easily excitable, and people on Eternia were… not. “Everyone dresses like this on Eternia.”

If it was even possible, Hec-Tor’s already stiff posture stiffened even more. “Not everyone on Eternia acts like you do.” He informed his husband. “And besides, I was not in the right frame of mind to- …take in the scenery…”

“Hm… scenery.” Keldor muttered. “Maybe during the lunch break I can show you some more scenery.”

Hec-Tor’s red flush climbed all the way to the tips of both ears, and down the neck to where his skin changed from pale ivory, to steely blue-gray, and Keldor noted that the blush on the blue-gray gave the skin an almost purplish hue which appealed to him. Being only half-Gar, he also turned more purple than the Eternian-average red, or proper Garish blue when he blushed. 

“There is no ‘scenery’ you can show me that I have not already seen.” Hec-Tor informed him. 

Keldor put on a pout. “Are you saying my scenery’s not worth seeing again?”

The space bat sputtered, floundering helplessly. So flustered, it was almost cute. Keldor might not like sleeping with Prince Hec-Tor, but he sure as hell was enjoying teasing him! 

“Your- scenery –is very nice. Very… healthy.” Hec-Tor informed him. “And I would very much like to take the time to- …appreciate your scenery later. When I am not working. Now, if you are finished making a fool of yourself, I am declaring this ‘break’ over and getting back to work.”

And so they did. 

Keldor did make Hec-Tor take more breaks over the course of the day. Both before and after the lunch hour. But he didn’t tease him as much. Poor man was so repressed, Keldor thought he might break all together if he pushed too hard. As the eldest of three brothers, he knew when it was okay to tease mercilessly, and when enough was enough and it was time to stop. He did, however, manage to convince Hec-Tor to try exercising with him on one of their last breaks. 

Nothing too strenuous. Hec-Tor wasn’t exactly dressed for high leg lifts or anything like that. And he was terribly out of shape. It was mostly just stretches, really. 

Keldor rested his hands on the tips of his toes and lifted his head to look at his husband. 

Hec-Tor was similarly bent over, but his hands were not even near his feet. His hands dangled just a fraction lower than the knees, fingers straining to reach the tips of the toes. 

“Don’t try so hard, otherwise you’ll pull a muscle.” Keldor told him. “Just stretch until you feel the muscles pull back. Then hold that position for a couple of seconds. Let go when the pull becomes uncomfortable.”

Hec-Tor did let go, straightening back into that absurdly stiff parade rest of his. As if he were some kind of real soldier and not the spoiled and pampered princeling that had never seen a moment of active combat in his life, that he was. 

“I do not see how you can bend like that so easily and I cannot.” He informed Keldor. “I have far less… bulk in my abdominal religion to get in the way.”

Keldor held his toe-touch for a second longer before he also lifted up. 

“Huh?” He put a hand over his belly, thinking the space bat was calling him fat. He already noted earlier that he was falling out of shape since coming to live in the Imperial palace. But then he remembered just how dangerously skinny Hec-Tor was under his clothing and his armor. “You mean my abs? Toe-touches don’t have anything to do with the abdominals, it’s supposed to be stretching the back of the legs. The popliteus and soleus muscles.” A pause. “And the tibialis. It’s about flexibility, not muscle mass. If you have trouble getting past your knees, it means you’re not flexible.”

Hec-Tor made a dismissive scoff. 

Keldor put on a teasing smirk. “Ya know, if you stretched more, you’d be able to bend over farther.”

…

Keldor did not see Par-Is very often, and he saw Horde Prime even less. The Imperial palace was a big place and so if he didn’t run into either of them, he just assumed they were just always in whatever wing of it was opposite from him at any given time. 

At this given time, Keldor was outside in the gardens. Sitting on the edge of a flower bed filled with salk weed, a plant from Eternia. As the name would imply, it was technically a weed. On Eternia it choked out many of the trees in the Evergreen Forest, the plant was a menace that destroyed ecosystems. But it was also pretty. A rich orange color, both the flowers and the leaves, and so many off worlders took clippings of the salk weed to plant in their own gardens on their own planets not realizing that it would overrun the landscape. 

Horde World was probably the only planet that didn’t have to worry about the salk weed taking over. The frequent dust storms destroyed the gardens and the plants living in them too often for it to take hold. Even if the high winds managed to spread the seeds over the shield wall, there wasn’t enough surface water to support the plants. The orange leaves were perfectly pruned and trilled and under the control of the palace’s gardeners. 

In all honesty, Keldor hated the weed. 

But it did remind him of home. The color, the texture, then smell. It smelled like home. 

Currently, he was reading about home. 

Keldor made it to the last datacard the Imperial library had on Eternia and he was feeling a little homesick. 

More than just superficially homesick, he was concerned. There was absolutely no mention of the Swords at all. Not just erasing them from the narratives of Mara and Gray, they were erased from the complete history the Horde kept on Eternia. That made no sense! The power of the Swords was the only thing that allowed a single planet like Eternia to challenge and match the overwhelming forces of the Horde. 

They acknowledged Mara as a key player in Eternia’s strength and ability to hold its own against the Horde. But they called her Mara Sebrian, not He-Ra. Similarly, Gray was explained as one of the Heroic Warrior, not He-Ro. Neither one received even a peripheral mention of having a Sword. As far as this heavily censored history was concerned, the Swords did not exist. 

He scrolled through another page, noting that the text fuzzed out and became corrupted and unreadable as the passage turned to an explanation of Mara’s death on the battle fields of Etheria, Eternia’s sister planet. According to the history Keldor was taught as a child, Mara’s body was recovered from Etheria, from a region called the ‘Whispering Woods’, but her Sword was never found. It was generally assumed that the Horde officer that struck the killing blow took the Sword off her body. This history the Horde hand in their library confirmed that she died on Etheria, and that she was laid to rest on her home planet of Eternia. But there was no mention one way or another of her ever even having a Sword, never mind which side got a hold of it. 

Several shadows fell over him and Keldor looked up to see four clones blocking out the sun. Standing between those four was Par-Is. 

She sat down next to him on the planter box. 

“I don’t know how you can stand this sun wearing as little clothing as you do.” She commented, fanning herself with a hand. With her other hand, she snapped her fingers. “The Prince and I are hot, bring us a canopy.”

Two of the four clones that accompanied her rushed away to fulfill the Horde Prima’s command. 

“It was unbearable when I first got here.” He admitted. “But I’ve since adjusted. Gar are very adaptable.” The secret was staying hydrated and slathering on the sunscreen generously. 

“Hm.” She ran a hand over a bright orange salk leaf. “You’ll find my brothers are not quite so adaptable. But Hec-Tor tries.”

“If he was displeased by my trying to work with him the other day, he has not said anything to me.” Keldor informed her. 

“He does not share such things with me.” Paris informed him. She plucked the leaf she’d been fondling from its stem and brought it to her nose, inhaling the unique herbal scent. “He’s rather like Anillis in that reguard. I was more referring to the idea of stretching in the mornings.” She flashed an amused smile. “He seems to think that if he could just touch his toes, he’ll suddenly get an Eternian physique like yours.”

The idea of Hec-Tor suddenly acquiring an Eternian physique sounded so ridiculous and Keldor couldn’t even imagine it at first. He was just too skinny and frail. Keldor’s initial mental image was that of someone wearing one of poorly made and ill-fitting muscle suits used in costuming. It was so ridiculous that he almost laughed. But then he remembered that Hec-Tor was tall. 

Keldor imagined someone of Hec-Tor’s height with the conventional Eternian build. Broad shoulders, muscular forearms, strong hands, hard chiseled pectorals and abdominals, narrow hips and thick thighs, round calves… Fuck! And on top of all that Hec-Tor’s space bat height! If Hec-Tor looked like that Keldor would be absolutely panting after him. Please, break me in half! 

“If only it were that easy.” He muttered. 

“Either way, it is nice to see him so optimistic about his health.” Par-Is crumpled the leaf in her hand and let it drop back into the bed. “Now, about your actual relationship with him. “You cannot invite yourself to look over his work and tell him how to do his job.”

“I wasn’t-!”

“He will start to resent you if you do and that is the exact opposite of him being happy.” Par-Is cut him off. “I want to be absolutely clear, Keldor, in case you misunderstood my intensions from before. I don’t give a shit about you. To me, you don’t matter. I only care about my brother, my twin brother,” Anillis could rot in hell for all she cared, “and he is married to you, and –for whatever reason- he likes you. So you are going to do your damnedest to make him feel liked and appreciated in return. You are not going to belittle him or make him feel lesser or unworthy just because he runs his country from behind a desk instead of on a battlefield like what you’re used to.”

The two clones that left to fetch a canopy returned. Between them they were carrying what looked like a velvet curtain propped up on four polls. A portable canopy meant to be held up by servants –or in this case, clones. 

“Ah, finally.” Par-Is readjusted her position on the planter to be more comfortable and began picking stems of salk and gathering them into a bouquet. “Go back to reading, Keldor, we’re enjoying the warm afternoon air together.”

He looked at her, confused for half a moment. 

Then Hec-Tor came striding up to them from around a stand of newly planted bushes and Keldro had to wonder how Par-Is even knew he was coming. Twins, he reminded himself. They were connected in a way that average siblings were not. 

“Oh. You’re together.” He stopped short.

“I was resting while taking a tour of the new gardens and your husband was kind enough to keep me company in the shade.” She answered, acting as if she’d been sitting there longer than she had. “He was just telling me about the latest datacard he was reading.”

“It’s just a history book.” Keldor informed them both. “Very boring, really. But your sister was kind enough to feign attention.” A pause. “Did you wanna speak to her alone?”

“I…” He seemed unsure. 

With a sigh, Keldor tucked his datapad under his arm and stood to leave. 

“No, it’s fine.” Hec-Tor assured him. “I actually, was going to ask her how to tell you- I have to leave Horde World and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Par-Is tore the stems of the bouquet of salk weed in her hands. “Where’s Anillis sending you this time?”

“It’s not Anillis, it’s me.” He assured his sister. “Or, well, actually, Keldor.” 

She turned to her brother-in-law and Keldor found himself fighting the urge to recoil. How dare he take the brother she liked away from her. 

“Me?”

“Yes.” Hec-Tor nodded. He assumed another parade rest. Legs slightly parted, arms folded behind his back. Keldor was beginning to recognize it as his ‘comfort pose’. The posture he assumed when he was trying to appear collected and in control of a situation. Hec-Tor cleared his throat. “I decided to take your advice. I will be shuffling many of our troops, both clone and Enlisted, across multiple planets. Since this is such a large project, I will be overseeing it personally. So I will be away from Horde World for some time.”

Away from Horde World for some time. On a warship with soldiers and warriors. Visiting different worlds and fighting in unique battles. Keldor was determined not to be left behind. He nodded at his husband. “Alright. When do we leave?”

Hec-Tor was confused. “’We’, don’t. I will be leaving within the next few days.”

“But it was my idea!” Keldor argued. “I should be the one to oversee it, or at the very least, help the one who is overseeing it.”

“Some of the places I will be going are active pockets of rebellion, and I will not risk a Prince of this Empire in senseless fighting.” The space bat argued back. 

“Oh, like you’ve ever seen a real fight.” Keldor scoffed, unimpressed. “I’m a soldier! I have fought in battles before! I have shed blood, both my own and my enemies and I’ve killed warriors more skilled and more seasoned then myself. What do you do? All I’ve seen you do is just stand there in your military pageant poses and give orders without being knowing how those orders should be carried out!”

He was cut off abruptly when Par-Is grabbed his arm. He looked down at her startled. 

The look she was giving him was one of silent warning, and when she tugged on his arm again, he took the cue and shut-up. Even going so far as to sit down. Alienating Hec-Tor was not what either of them wanted. 

“I think what Prince Keldor is trying to say, brother, is that he cannot bear to be parted from you so soon after you’ve just been joined.” She announced. Keldor took the hint and tried to look affectionate as well as passionate. “I imagine he probably also fears for your safety. As I understand it, Eternia has been at war with itself since the days of their first King settled on the planet. Keldor has probably seen some horrors in those battles he’s shed blood in and does not want those horrors to befall his beloved.”

She glanced to the side and Keldor took the signal, muttering something non-committal under his breath. 

“I think you should take him with you after all.” Par-Is continued. “It will put his heart at ease to see how you run your forces and are in no danger, and it will put my mind at ease knowing you have so devoted a protector by your side.”

Hec-Tor stood there. It looked like he was chewing on the inside of his mouth. Keldor married into the Empire. He –technically- held no position aside from just ‘spouse’. He was not an officer of the Horde military and had no command or authority other than what might be given to him. Since arriving on Horde World all Keldor had really done was lounge around the various rooms and grounds of the palace reading. Because of this, Hec-Tor had probably filed Keldor into the same category as Par-Is in his mind. Someone that was dear to him, but also delicate that must be cared for. Hec-Tor had to be reminded that Keldor was not a delicate little trophy husband that needed to be kept away from the uglier aspects of maintaining a monarchy. He was a warrior Prince of Eternia and already a veteran of several battles. 

Finally, Hec-Tor cleared his throat. “I will let my staff know that you will be joining me on the journey and to make the appropriate accommodations.”

“You don’t need to go to any trouble.” Keldor told him. “I’ve gotten good at making due.”

The stiffness and rigidity returned to Hec-Tor’s spine. “You are a Prince of this Empire, you will be accommodated.” He repeated. “I’ll see to it personally.”

Hec-Tor left. 

Keldor could barely believe it. He was getting off Horde World! Even for just a little while. Not just out of the palace, but off the Goddess forsaken dustball of a planet. And he might get a fight! ‘Active pockets of rebellion’, indeed. Fighting for the House of Miro, Keldor got good at squashing rebellions. He stood back up. He would need to make preparations of his own if Hec-Tor intended to leave within the next coming days. 

But Par-Is grabbed his arm again. 

“You are going to protect him.” She announced. It was not a question. She wasn’t playing the role of the concerned sister only worrying for her brother’s safety. And it wasn’t command either. She wasn’t acting the part of the imperious Empress doling out orders. It was only a clear and simple statement of fact. “I know you don’t particularly care for him, but you will keep him safe all the same. Because you want what Hec-Tor can give you. You want to be Emperor of the Universe one day, and he can’t give you that if he’s dead.”

“I-“ Keldor began, but was cut off again. 

“No need to swear oaths, or offer me assurances.” Par-Is informed him. “I don’t care about your promises. I know everything boils down to your own self-interest. It is in your own self-interest to keep Hec-Tor both happy and safe, and so that is what you will do.”

Standing, Par-Is also left. Her four clone guards keeping pase with her, still holding the canopy over her head.


	21. In Different Directions

‘Adora… Adora…’

“Adora!” Catra snapped at the Eternian princess. 

She was turning out to be a bigger handful than Catra originally thought. She kept turning her head, as if listening to something only she could hear. Once or twice Adora even tried to wander off and Catra had to grab her and drag her along to keep them from getting separated. It was almost like taking care of Entrapta. Were all Princesses like this?

Catra pulled her long, moving between the trees on a newer course that –this time- she was sure would get them back to the mountains of Dryl. 

Instead, the narrow trail widened unexpectedly, opening up into the front yard of a large house.

Easily three stories tall, and very wide. Probably meant to accommodate a large family. Catra just stared at the building, at a bit of a loss. Not only did she not know where they were, she didn’t even know anyone lived in the Whispering Woods. She thought it was uninhabitable because of all the wild magic and constantly changing landscape. 

Who lived out here!?

More confused than anything else, Catra took another step towards the house, pulling Adora by the hand with her. 

But she froze in her tracks again when something zoomed through the air, just barely missing her nose. It stuck in a tree on the far side of the yard and Catra turned to see it was an arrow. Turning her head back, she followed its trajectory to see a man standing on the opposite side holding the corresponding bow. 

“That’s far enough.” He announced. 

He was not particularly tall, about average height actually. Dark skinned and dark haired, his hair shaved and shaped into a neat and respectable flat-top. Wearing a long sleeved shirt that went all the way down to the waist and was tucked into his pants. 

Adora seemed unbothered by the weapon that was trained on them. She marched right up to the mysterious archer. “Do you live in these woods? Can you help us? My current guide seems a little lost.”

“I’m not lost!” Catra snapped at her. “I’m just a little turned around and don’t know which direction to go.”

The mysterious archer relaxed his bow arm, and lowered the bow. His expression softened. “You’re lost?”

“We’re not lost!” Insisted Catra.

“We just have no idea where we’re going.” Announced Adora. 

The archer unknocked the arrow and replaced it back in his quiver. He then shrugged the quiver off his shoulder and unstrung the bow. Walking to a planter, he lofted the flowers up out of it and slid the bow and quiver inside, replacing the flowers on top of them. “Come inside. My dads might be able to help you.”

Both women shrugged. It wasn’t like they had any better options, and he couldn’t be much of a danger to them. He’s just discarded his own weapon. 

Adora slid up beside Catra to whisper in her ear. “Does everyone on Etheria store their weapons in dirt?”

“No.” Catra hissed back. “Obviously, he’s hiding it from the dads he mentioned.”

They followed the archer inside. It turned out to be some kind of library that doubled as a museum. Every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf was filled. Mostly books. Real books, hard bound with paper pages. But there were racks of datacards as well. Definitely a library of sorts. But there were also artifacts in glass cases. A cracked piece of pottery. A broken crystal. A fragment of a velum scroll. All of it preserved and protected behind glass. 

“What is this place?” Asked Adora. 

She recognized the language on the scroll as an older dialect of Eternian, maybe even middle-Eternian. And the pottery was painted with the figure of He-Ra, Adora recognized the legendary warrior from her history lessons. He-Ra and her brother He-Ro were legendary warriors that wielded magical Swords and were what allowed Eternia to hold out against joining the Empire for so long. It was said that He-Ra fell here, somewhere on Etheria and the Horde took her sword. 

“This is my house.” Said the archer. “But is also doubles as my dads’ office, study, library, and archive.” He chuckled awkwardly. “One of my dads is a historian.”

“Ah.” Said Adora. That explained all the pre-Horde Eternian artifacts. 

“Bow, who are your guests?” Asked a voice from above them. 

They all looked up. Coming down the stairs were two men. One was tall and slim, with long and neat dreadlocks, and just the shadow of a beard. The other was shorter, with his graying hair that was cropped short, and a well-groomed handlebar mustache. 

“Dad, they were lost in the forest and I said we could help them. This is- um…” He hadn’t asked their names. How rude. His dads would be disappointed. They raied him better than that. 

“Catra.” Supplied one. “And blondie over here is Princess-“

“Despara!” Adora blurted out before Catra could give away her real name. 

She didn’t know how long it would take her father and future in-laws in Brightmoon to figure out she was gone. If this library-house was close to the castle, it would be one of the first places they looked. But if the people who lived here could say ‘there was never anyone named “Adora” here’, that would throw them off her trail. 

“Well, Catra, and Despara, I’m George, and this is my husband, Lance.” Said the shorter. “Bow says you’re lost? It’s a little dark to be wandering around the woods. Why don’t you stay the night and We’ll have Bow escort you wherever you need to go in the morning.”

Lanced touched his arm gently. “Oh, no the Whispering Woods are much too dangerous to send Bow!”

“Alright, then I’ll escort them.” Nodded George. “Where are you ladies going?”

“Dryl.” Answered Catra honestly. 

Adora opened her mouth to contradict her. If a search part from Brightmoon came looking for her, she didn’t want these people to point them in the right direction. But, if they were going to have a guide, their guide would need to know where he was going. So Adora said nothing. 

“Dryl?” Next to them, Bow beamed with enthusiasm. “That’s the seat of all innovation and advancement on Etheria! Are you two scientists? I’m a bit of an amateur inventor myself.”

Lance smiled fondly. “Our little Bow is quite the scholar.”

Bow flushed self-consciously, embarrassed by his parents.

“I’m sure he’s great.” Adora flashed a well practiced court-smile at them. “But we couldn’t possibly impose on you. If you could just give us some instructions, we’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Non-sense.” Insisted George. “It’s dark out now, and besides, simple instructions won’t do any good in navigating the woods. They change too much. You need someone who lives here and knows the changes. Now, we’ll have Bow make up some rooms for you, and I’ll whip you up a snack –you must be hungry after hiking through the woods- and while you wait, Lance can entertain you with a brief history of the woods.”

George trotted down the stairs, past them, and through a side-door that presumably lead to the kitchen. 

“The Whispering Woods actually have one of the most interesting histories on all of Etheria!” Lance seemed so excited to share his passions with newcomers. “Historians even theories that within these woods is the very spot the Eternian hero, Mara, fell in battle against the Horde!” 

…

Hec-Tor was up in the cliff-hanging ship yards. It was so early in the morning it was still dark outside. He had barely gotten any sleep between Princess Prom and now, but their first shipment of weapons was going out and Hec-Tor wanted to oversee it personally. The shipment was on time, but several units short of what Brother desired. 

He watched Enlisted check and double check the contents of every large freight container before clone units loaded it on the ship. Doing his own mental count as each container passed the gangplank. 

Next to him, Grizzlor stood, also counting off containers as they were loaded. Logging each freight containers serial number on a datapad. The information to be sent to Horde Prime separately to be matched against the ship’s own records upon arrival to make sure there was no tampering. 

Grizzlor’s datapad rang with an incoming call. The ID saying it was Mantenna. Grizzlor opened it as audio-only in order to keep tally of the cargo. “I didn’t think you’d be up yet. Your shift doesn’t start for another four hours.”

Mantenna was yawning when he spoke. “Wish I was. But there’s a very distraught –very loud- Eternian King here looking for the Prince, and even Baker can’t make him go away.” 

“Randor?” Hec-Tor turned to address the datapad in his lieutenant’s paws. “Is something wrong?”

“Hec-Tor!” Randor’s voice shouted over the line. 

“He’s here with me.” Added Mantenna, sounding tired and defeated. 

“Is Adora with you?” He demanded, panicked. “I haven’t seen her since Princess Prom last night and I know you and your new spouse left early, and we can’t find her anywhere in the castle, and I know you and Adora aren’t exactly close-“ he hadn’t seen Adora in person since she was an infant “-but I thought, just maybe, she might have tagged along with you last night?”

The panic in his voice was that of a parent worried for a lost child, and Hec-Tor could empathize with that. Imp was a mischievous little scamp and often got into the oddest places, giving Hec-Tor no shortages of panic attacks. But Adora was not a toddler. Adora was a full grown adult and legally independent by Eternian law –or, at least, as independent as the child of a king was allowed to be- so the sheer level of panic in Randor’s voice seemed unnecessarily excessive. 

Unless, Adora’s sudden disappearance was also reminding him of Keldor. 

Nobody knew what happened to him. He left no trace. They never found him, a body, or any answers. Randor was probably fearing the same for his daughter. 

Randor was there for him when Keldor disappeared. Was supportive and helped with the search. “Adora did not come with us.” He told Randor. “But I will come down and help you.” To Grizzlor he ordered, “Continue to oversee the shipment, place the file on my desk when it is done. I do not know when I will get to it.”

He left. 

Randor was pacing the kitchen when Hec-Tor arrived back at the Crypto Castle. Mantenna was with him, still wearing his pajamas, but he had pinned his Horde Force Captain’s badge to his nightshirt. Baker was brewing a pot of coffee for them all.

The moment Hec-Tor entered, Randor ran up to him. It was like Keldor’s disappearance all over again. All shallow breaths and frantic. ‘Where’s my brother? Where have you looked? What do we know?’

“Are you able to check the castle?” Randor demanded this time. “I know you said Adora didn’t leave with you, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t stow away with you.” 

“Of course.” Nodded Hec-Tor. Randor helped him so much with the search for Keldor. They did everything short of invoking the power of the three towers to peer through the veils between dimensions to see what happened to him. It was only fair that Hec-Tor do the same for Randor. “The datapad with my administrator control is in my office.”

Randor remained restless and anxious the entire way to Hec-Tor’s office, and in the office once they got there. Walking the perimeter. Testing the walls. There were no windows. He kicked the carpet up too, looking for trap doors. There were none. 

Hec-Tor set his app to scan for any organism larger than a mouse that wasn’t carrying a tracker. 

“Is she here?” Randor asked again, now leaning over the datapad in Hec-Tor’s hands, standing on the tips of his toes because Hec-Tor was so tall. 

“I am searching.” He informed his brother-in-law. 

He noted that Imp was out of bed –again- and that Mantenna had not gone back to bed but was still in the kitchen with Baker, also, that Catra’s tracker was absent from the grounds. Entrapta was in her lab. There were a number of Enlisted in the castle. Those on duty were at their posts, those off duty were mostly still asleep with only a few milling about the castle. But there were no beings moving about without trackers. 

“I’m sorry, Randor. It looks like she is not here.” Hec-Tor had to tell him. 

The look Randor gave him, one would think Hec-Tor told him he’d lost his brother all over again. Only worse this time because it was his own child. 

“But I am sure she is fine.” Hec-Tor tried to assure him, hoping it would put Randor at ease. “Adora is very smart and I’ve sure an equally capable warrior. The fact that your family is all powerful warriors is something Keldor often reminded me of on an almost weekly basis. Wherever Adora is, am I sure that she is safe, and that is where she wants to be.”

Randor continued to look skeptical …and oddly betrayed. “Is that what you believe of Keldor?”

The question was such a punch in the gut, Hec-Tor felt his bottom lip quiver and his eyes begin to water before he could catch it and control them. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get a better hold of himself. “There is a vast difference,” he growled, low in the back of his throat, “between a Prince of the Horde Empire, a seasoned warrior, commander of my armies, and a soon-to-be father, vanishing without a trace, leaving behind a husband who loved him and a new child on the way, and a moody teenager running out on an unwanted marriage!”

Randor checked himself almost immediately. He was lashing out because he was worried about his child. But Hec-Tor was right. What happened to Keldor was a mystery and probably a tragedy. Adora’s disappearance, however, was probably voluntary and under her own control. 

Both men took a step back from each other. 

“I’m sorry.” Randor said. “I didn’t mean to imply that- Keldor left- you…” He chewed on his bottom lip. “That was wrong of me. And Keldor would never willingly abandon his child. Our own father wasn’t the greatest to him and he never wanted to be like that to his own children.”

“Perhaps,” began Hec-Tor, suggesting an alternative for the Adora situation, “she made a friend at Princess Prom. Perhaps Adora has run off to another Princess’ kingdom.” 

“That- that’s a good idea.” Randor nodded. “Yeah! This planet if full of talented young women with desirable qualities! Adora probably just ran off with someone else!”

It was amazing how relieved Randor appeared at the idea that his daughter had run away –and possibly eloped- with a random stranger. He really had been afraid that she’d just up and vanished without a trace like Keldor had. 

“If you need, I can assign some of my own troops to aid your search.” Hec-Tor offered. Brother would probably disapprove of using Imperial units to search for one missing planetary princess. But Brother wasn’t here right now and Randor was. Besides, Randor was his brother too. 

“Thank you. I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Randor assured him. 

“Nonsense, we are family.” Hec-Tor typed out a quick message to Mantenna’s datapad to put together a contingent of Enlisted troops to help Randor in his search for Adora. 

“Thank you.” Randor said again, this time he did not try and turn down the help. It was an Eternian custom to first refuse a gift before accepting it. “And, I’m sorry again, for what I said about Keldor. However he disappeared, I know he didn’t leave by choice.”

…

Skeletor touched down on planet Phantos with Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops flanking him. 

The local Queen, Elmora, had run a foul of the Horde recently by trying to raise the price of phitanium, a precious mineral only found on Phantos. The Empire saw the price increase as a local Queen trying to extort the Horde and did not react kindly. 

Now Phantos was occupied by the Horde, and Queen Elmora was stripped of all control and power. She was a ‘Queen’ in name only now, with no real power or influence. 

But she did have access.

Access to smelting facilities and processing plants. Which was exactly what Skeletor needed. Now, he just had to find a way to arrange a meeting.


	22. Rescue on Phantos

As a planet under martial law by Imperial decry, the finite space around Phantos was restricted space. No ship could leave or come to Phantos without prior Imperial clearance. Luckily, Skeletor could forge absolutely perfect Imperial documents. One would think he used to be a very high ranking Horde officer with how expertly he could compose a document and attach all the right clearance codes. 

At the helm, Trap Jaw keyed in the transmission for their forged clearance documents. The signature on it was so detailed that one would think Skeletor actually had Prince Hec-Tor Kur’s real thumbprint. 

There was the beat of a pause in which Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops held their breath, imagining that at any minute the control tower was going to catch them on their forgery and order the dreadnaughts in orbit to open fire on them. But they didn’t. After a prolonged pause, the control tower gave them the all clear to proceed and Trap Jaw brought the ship in to land on the planet’s surface. 

The skies of Phantos were a dark inky-blue, but the clouds were a deep and vivid fuchsia, a color derived from the red dwarf star the planet orbited. 

Tri-Klops adjusted his center eye to night-vision to compensate for the dim lighting. 

Both he and Trap Jaw stood atop the gangplank of their ship, both wearing uniforms of Horde Enlisted that they had ‘borrowed’ from the guards of a supply shipment they intercepted some time ago. Just by looking at them, no one would be able to tell that they did not belong on a Horde-held world. Their leader, however, was not so lucky. 

Apparently, the Horde Empire managed to get some footage of Skeletor on the security cams of Nordor. While they didn’t know his name, they had his face (or, skull), and had plastered it on every screen in the Empire along with a hefty bounty. On a planet under martial law like Phantos, it wouldn’t take much more than five minutes from the moment Skeletor stepped out of the ship before he was recognized and arrested. 

Exchanging a look, no words spoken between the two of them, both Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops looked back into the ship for their leader. 

“You want us to take point on this, Boss?” Asked Tri-Klops. 

“Since you’re ‘face’ is now the most famous face in the Empire.” Elaborated Trap Jaw. 

“No need.” Skeletor’s high nasal voice issued from the ship. He appeared on the gangplank with them only moments later. 

Or, rather, someone appeared on the gangplank with them only moments later. He was dressed like Skeletor, armored boots that went up to his knees, under a leather loincloth with a wide waistband and decorative skull-shaped belt buckle, two belts crossed over his chest, light shoulder armor, and a hood covering his head. All of it arranged over a body covered in dusky blue skin. But the face that looked out from the hood was not a skull at all. It wasn’t even bony. 

A square jaw, covered in neatly trimmed facial hair. Full lips, the top lip with a bit of a cupid’s bow curve to it. A wide nose. Almond eyes with sharp corners of a brown so dark they might as well have been black. A high forehead. Straight, perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. All of it crowned by dark ebony hair that was swept back under the hood revealing a sharp widows peak to the hairline. 

It was all Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw could do to just stare at him. 

“It’s a glamour.” Explained the face with Skeletor’s voice. 

“Is that what you really look like, Boss?” Asked Trap Jaw. “I mean, before you turned all… Myehh…”

“No.” Skeletor answered simply. The face he had before was too famous and too recognizable. Every Horde soldier would recognize Prince Imperial Keldor, Prince Hec-Tor’s lost love that he exhausted nearly countless resources to search for but never found. It would take less than five minutes on any Horde-held world for him to be recognized, and that would be a whole different kind of problem. “But it’s close enough to not look out of place on the rest of my body.”

They continued to stare at him a moment longer. 

Skeletor sighed with exasperation. Sometimes, working with his henchmen was like herding his younger brothers. No matter how important the task at hand, they could not focus unless all other distractions were removed. 

“Alright. You each get one question.” He groaned. 

“So, like, I knew you were Gar, but going by your skull shape, I always imagined your eyes being rounder than the average Gar’s.” Announced Trap Jaw. 

“That’s not a question.” Skeletor informed him. 

“Don’t glamours not work on cameras and stuff?” Tri-Klops had an actual question. “Won’t your cover be blown the moment anyone looks at literally any security feeds?”

“That’s two questions. But since it’s relevant, I’ll answer them.” Skeletor nodded. “A glamour is magic, which means it’s subject to magical rules. My true appearance will still show up in reflections on ‘natural’ surfaces. Any glass made from sand, any mirror that contains silver, water –obviously. Most analogue cameras will capture my true appearance, but most cameras used by the Horde are digital not analogue and can be fooled by magic.” 

Skeletor waited a beat to see if either of them were going to make any further comments. When they didn’t immediately open their mouths, he brushed past them down the gangplank. 

…

There were three ways the Horde kept Queen Elmora in place and obedient. 

The first was placing a military blockade around the planet and controlling all off-world imports. Any supplies from other planets, regardless if they were essential or simply a luxury, were held hostage by the occupying Horde. 

The second was to replace the bulk of her own forces, palace guards, industry guards, industry workers, and miners with Horde forces. Both Enlisted and clones. Workers and soldiers that were loyal to the Empire and not to her. 

The third was to take Elmora’s brother, Barbo, as a political hostage. He was a guest of the occupying Horde commander, Darkney, on their command dreadnaught. 

With so much leverage over her, what else could Elmora do but submit to the Horde’s every whim and command. 

So, when a group of strangers from off-world came to her in the privacy of her chambers, forgoing the formality of the throne room and sneaking past the guards, she was more than just wary. She was downright fearful. Nothing good ever came of strangers sneaking into a person’s bedroom without the bedroom resident’s foreknowledge or permission. Especially not while under harsh Imperial martial law. 

Elmora didn’t pause to demand what was the meaning of this, or ask who they were or what they wanted. When people snuck into a room while the planet was under martial law they were either assassins sent from the Horde to remove her permanently, or else… here to do worse to her. 

Raising her hands, she cast a wordless spell, shooing white-gray power from her hands at the intruders. 

The middle one reacted more quickly than his two companions, raising his staff –a long, fancy number with a decorative ram’s head with tightly spiraled horns- and blocked Elmora’s attack spell. So, at least one of them was a sorcerer like her. Well, at least these assassins were competent. If she was going to be killed by brigands in the night at least she wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of being killed by incompetent Imperial oafs. She raised her hands to cast another spell. 

“Wait!” Shouted the one in the middle. The one with the ram’s head staff that blocked her first attack. Clearly, he was their leader. 

Elmora wasn’t going to wait, she was about to let loose another spell at the intruders, but then she caught the leader in profile reflected in her bedroom mirror. Unlike the transparasteel windows which were highly processed synthetic material, her mirror was real glass over a quicksilver backing. It saw past glamours and reflected the truth. And the truth of the face she was seeing in profile in her mirror was not that of a roguishly handsome Gar, but rather, the bone that would be underneath it. A skull face. Naked of skin, empty eye sockets, and a death-grin. 

It was also a face she recognized from the Wanted bulletin. 

Elmora did now lower her arms. “You’re the one the Prince is looking for.”

For the briefest of moments, Skeletor felt a stab of irrational panic. Did she recognize him? Did he make his glamour too close to what his real face used to look like? Was he somehow recognizable as the lost Prince Imperial Keldor?

But Elmora’s eyes were not focused directly at him. She was looking a little bit to the side. Skeletor followed her line of sight until he caught the mirror, and his reflection in it. The bare bone of his skull glare back at him with its perpetual toothy grin. 

“Oh.” He said out loud. Elmora didn’t mean he was ‘the one the Prince is looking for’, the long-lost husband. She meant ‘the one the Prince is looking for’, the criminal and enemy of the Empire. So much for a glamour. That was a short-lived deception. Well, at least it got them from the space port to the palace without being recognized (a feat that could have just as easily been achieved with a hood). Skeletor cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here?” Elmore kept her hands up. She might know the intruder’s identity now, but she still lacked a reason to trust him and his comrades. 

Still gazing at his own reflection in the mirror, Skeletor traced a thumb over the lower mandible of his jaw. It felt so strange to be in a royal suit, surrounded by all the luxury royalty could afford, staring at his own reflection in a gilded mirror, and yet the face that stared back at him was not the handsome, blue skinned, face with mixed race features of Prince Keldor. For a heartbeat of a moment, Skeletor felt so out of place in his own skin he didn’t even feel real. 

Then he forced himself to break his gaze with himself in the mirror and bring his attention back to the matter at hand. 

Skeletor cleared his throat. “I have a business proposal for you.” He explained. “You don’t want the Horde occupying your world anymore, and I don’t want Horde Prime on the throne anymore. Both our enemies and our goals are parallel, we should pool our resources and work together.”

At that announcement, Elmora laughed. A thick wet snort of a laugh. The most unladylike laugh. An uncensored reaction to the sheer absurdity of his suggestion. 

“I case you haven’t noticed Mr…”

“Skeletor will do.”

“Mr. Skeletor, I have no real power anymore.” Elmora pointed out. “Even if I did want to work with you, I couldn’t. I can’t do anything.”

There was a beat of a pause. Skeletor thinking. The two ebony lines of the eyebrows on his glamour knitting together in thought. It was a very believable glamour. If the antique mirror hadn’t revealed his true face, Elmora would have been very willing to believe that he really did look like that. A handsome, roguish Gar warrior, on the older edge of his prime. 

“I can falsify ship IDs and shipping documents so that my people can come and go through the Horde’s blocade almost freely.” He told her. “And get some of my people in under false Imperial IDs to replace some of the Enlisted soldiers in your palace, or in your refineries.” Skeletor specified ‘or’ instead of ‘and’ because he did not have a surplus of minions. He had to make sure they were deployed as effectively as possible, in the most advantageous positions possible. “Why can’t you work with me?”

That question made a bubble of anger simmer up to the surface. Not exactly directed at him. It was focusless. But, Skeletor was who she was addressing when she said, “I wouldn’t expect a terrorist like you to understand.” She snapped. “But they have my brother and will kill him if I don’t continue to cooperate with them. So, you see, Skeletor, if I do help you, I might get the Horde off my planet, but I’d lose my brother.”

Those perfectly straight and symmetrical eyebrows of his glamour went up, as did the corners of his mouth in an optimistic smile. “Oh. Is that all?” Asked Skeletor. “All I have to do to get you to work with me is rescue your brother?”

Elmora sputtered for half a moment. That was not the reaction she was expecting from him. She was expecting something along the lines of a speech about how his plans concerned the whole universe and what was one man in the grand scheme of things? Instead it was just, so, if I do this impossible thing for you, you’ll help me. As if that impossible thing were not impossible at all. Just a little side-quest to help him along his main quest. Irrationally, it made Elmora feel optimistic. 

“You can rescue my brother?” She asked, breath bated with suspense. 

“Well, I haven’t tried yet.” Skeletor shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Darkney’s not exactly a hardened soldier.”

Skeletor said this as if he were someone who might have known Commander Darkney personally. 

Elmora’s throat felt inexplicably tight and she wondered if she looked like she was about to cry. If Barbo could be rescued from the Horde… If he was safe… “If you rescue-“ Elmora croaked, then cleared her throat. “Ahem. If you can rescue my brother, I will help you in whatever capacity that I’m able.”

…

Darkney used to be an inspector before he was a military commander. This was one of the reasons why he was given command over the occupying garrison on Phantos. It was a deployment that did not require combat aptitude, all it needed was logistical and bureaucratic experience. That was also why Darkney scrutinized Skeletor’s security clearance so critically. 

His one good eye glaring at Prince Hec-Tor Kur’s thumbprint on the document. He looked back up at the one who held it. 

A Gar by all outward appearances. Almond shaped eyes with sharp corners, straight perfectly trimmed and shaped eyebrows that were impossibly symmetrical. Ebony hair that was straight and pulled back tightly, showing that his hairline had a sharp widow’s peak to it. Pointed ears, a wide nose, a square jaw covered in neatly trimmed facial hair. And –of course- the iconic blue skin that characterized the Gar race. 

The thing was, Darkney hadn’t heard of any Gar officers within the Horde that were a high enough rank to earn clearance signed by the Prince himself. Except for the Prince’s late husband, Prince Imperial Keldor. But he was never an official member of the military and so not an officer. And he was also missing five years, presumed dead. 

Darkney looked back up at the face of the Gar holding the document. He did not look a thing like Prince Keldor. 

“Are you gonna take all fucking day?” Demanded the Gar. 

Darkney was still suspicious. Darkney was suspicious about everything. He saw deceit and subterfuge everywhere –it was actually one of the things that had made him such an adept inspector back when he was one- but the Prince’s thumb print was authentic. Darkney had no tangible grounds to deny the Gar and his retainers access to the command ship. 

Reluctantly, Darkney passed the datapad back to the Gar. “I am always honored to serve the Imperial family or their agents.” He said. But when the Gar –whom had yet to give his name- reached to take the datapad back, Darkney held on to it a moment longer. “I couldn’t help but notice that the order does not cite a reason for this visit.”

“The Prince Imperial isn’t required to explain his reasons.” The Gar reminded him. “He’s a Prince.”

“Of course.” Darkney hated that about royals. They could do almost anything they wanted because they were royal, and didn’t have to explain anything. 

“Excellent.” The Gar jerked the datapad out of Darkney’s hand. “No need to show us around. I know my way around a dreadnaught class warship.” 

The Gar and his two companions brushed past Darkney. 

Tri-Klops’ eyes swiveled around to watch Darkney as they walked away from him, making sure the Horde commander wasn’t following them. When they turned a corner and it seemed like they were not being tailed, he asked, “How long do you think it’ll take him to realize our clearance was forged?”

“Shh.” Skeletor hissed at him. “He’ll figure it out a lot faster if you ask dumb questions like that.”

“Why are we even doing this?” Asked Trap Jaw. “I looked up a little on Barbo while we were on the shuttle up here. He’s not a sorcerer like Elmora, he doesn’t have any useful powers, he’s not ever a decent warrior.”

“Barbo is not the one I’m trying to recruit as an ally.” Skeletor reminded him. “I have little use for pampered princes, who rarely leave their palaces, and are as soft as the cushions they lounge on.” Unbidden, a memory of Hec-Tor rose to the forefront of his mind. Hec-Tor, doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard after surviving a skirmish he had no business being in in the first place. Keldor staring at him, a trickle of blood (someone’s blood) drying on his face. ‘You’re not as soft as I thought you were.’ But Skeletor pushed the memory from his mind. “But, Barbo is important to Elmora, and Elmora is the one we want. Now shut up, both of you.” 

They stopped talking. 

And a good thing, too. The trio rounded a corner and came face to face with two clone units walking in the opposite direction. If the clones –with their pointed ears and keen space bat hearing- heard any of their conversation, they gave no outward indication of it. Their faces remained as stoic and impassive as they always did. Their only reaction to Skeletor and his lieutenants being to fall in single file and salute as they passed each other. 

Skeletor remembered the days when they would stop walking for him. Flatten themselves against the walls and bow as if he were some kind of reverent figure. But that was back when he was still fucking a member of the royal family. Not impersonating an Enlisted agent. 

After they passed, Skeletor turned his head, following them with his eyes until they too turned a corner. There was no change in their posture, or their step. No indication that the clones thought they were anything but fellow members of the Horde. Still, Skeletor had a bad feeling in his gut. He never liked the clones, not even when they were waiting on him hand and foot. 

“Let’s pick up the pace.” He ordered his companions. 

They made it to the ship’s brig without incident. The vast majority of the cells were empty. As a general rule, the Horde did not keep prisoners long. 

But Barbo was a hostage, not the standard interrogate-then-dispose-of prisoner. He was a prisoner of value, kept alive –and presumably well- in order to keep a local leader in line. 

They found his cell easily enough. 

Elmora and Barbo were supposed to be siblings, but there was little resemblance to be seen between them. 

Elmora was slender and lithe, with an angular face and narrow chin, and hair as red as fire itself. Barbo, by comparison, was tall and broad. With a square face and chiseled chin hidden behind a thick beard of chestnut brown hair. He wore a crown on his head that was spiked with animal tusks, and a cape of fur over his otherwise bare chest. In fact, Barbo could have easily past for an Eternian, if it weren’t for the fact that his muscles were the wrong balance for a warrior. More the kind of sculpted physique a person got from body building, not from combat. 

Barbo stood when he noticed the three newcomers outside his cell. His usual guards were all clones. Space bats with blank expressions and empty eyes. Not Enlisted soldiers that were high enough rank to be allowed to forgo the standard issue uniform and wear whatever crazy clothing –or lack of clothing as the case may be- as they wanted. 

“Who are you?” Barbo demanded, though he was not in a position to demand anything of anyone. 

Reaching into a pocket on the belt of his loincloth, the one in the middle, a Gar warrior, took out what looked like a single finger cut from a latex glove. He slipped his single finger glove over his thumb and pressed it to the energy field that served as the fourth wall and bars of Barbo’s cell. The energy field registered a thumb print on the latex and flickered green to acknowledge that it had access. He dragged his thumb down on the field and the light flickered a second time, then vanished. Leaving only empty air and an open cell in its place. 

“One of these days, you gotta tell us the story of how you got Prince Hec-Tor’s thumb print.” Tri-Klops muttered behind his back. 

“Some other time.” Skeletor muttered back, peeling the latex finger-glove off his thumb and stowing it safely back in his belt. He looked up at Barbo –whom was much taller than him. Tall, and wide, and muscular, with thick facial hair… fuck! This was not the kind of prince he expected to rescue. Skeletor cleared his throat. “We’re here to rescue you.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. A rescue? But, he didn’t know these people, why would they want to rescue him? Was it a Horde trick? The Horde was sometimes known for deception.

Then Trap Jaw added, “Elmora sent us. Your sister.”

That was all the convincing Barbo needed. His eyebrows went up almost cheerfully, and he smiled at them as if they were good friends even he didn’t know a single one of their names. “Oh, Ellie, did? A rescue. That’s great!”

Barbo stepped out of the cell. 

Big, and trusting, and stupid. He would fit right in on Eternia. Almost everyone was big and stupid there. 

“Let’s go.” Skeletor growled, not wanting to waste time. 

They lead Barbo down the same corridor they just came through. 

Except when they turned the corner this time, they were met with a wall of clones. Standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking the corridor completely. Two rows thick. 

“Fuck!” Skeletor said aloud. He knew he had a bad feeling about this. 

Pushing his way between two clones, Darkney stepped out in front. “I knew there was something suspicious about you!” He announced. “Prince Hec-Tor Kur has no Gar lieutenants or agents.”

“Yeah, cause you’re so familiar with the Prince’s inner circle.” Skeletor rolled the eyes of his glamour. He never liked Darkney. 

“Kill the intruders!” Darkney commanded the clones. “Return the prisoner to his cell alive.”

The clones stepped around Darkney to carry out the orders. 

Acting fast, forgoing magic, Skeletor grabbed Barbo by the belt of the man’s own fur loincloth and yanked him heavy bulk around the corner. Just in time to avoid blaster fire from the clone’s arm canons. 

Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw knelt beside them. Skeletor didn’t even check to make sure they were okay. He assumed that if they were well enough to be taking cover too, they were fine. 

“Well, Boss, what’s the escape plan now?” Asked Trap Jaw. 

Skeletor was trying to remember a spell. Out loud he answered his henchman’s question. “It doesn’t look like Darkney’s got any Enlisted on his ship. Since we arrived all we’ve seen are clone units.”

“So?” Demanded Tri-Klops, not following his leader’s trail of thought. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Clones are space bats.” Skeletor reminded them all. He remembered the spell he was thinking of now. “And bats have very sensitive hearing.”

Raising his Havoc Staff, using it to magnify his magic and project the spell almost all over the dreadnought, Skeletor cast Sonic. 

A wave shuddered through the air. It raised the hair on the back of their necks, and Trap Jaw head a buzzing in his ears on a frequency he couldn’t quite pick up. Skeletor knew that if he still had ears (the illusion ears of his glamour did not count) he would feel a similar buzzing. But for the clone units just around the corner, it was more than just a low buzzing. It was on a frequency that tore through their ear-drums, damaging the inner ear. Causing problems with equilibrium, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and fainting. 

When Skeletor stepped back around the corner, it was to find Darkney standing in a semi-circle of fallen clone bodies, their ears bleeding.

Darkney tried pulling out his own sidearm and just shooting Skeletor himself. But the sorcerer cast Immobilize before Darkney could even get the weapon out of its holster. Skeletor shoved him to the side as if he were nothing. 

“Let’s go.” Skeletor called over his shoulder. 

Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw escorted Barbo past Darkney as well. The whole while, Barbo looking at Skeletor’s back as if the sorcerer were the most amazing person he’d ever seen.

…

Skeletor brought Barbo right back to Elmora in her chambers. 

The look on her face told Skeletor that she never actually believed they could rescue her brother. After all, no one else had ever broken into a Horde capital ship and lived to tell the tale. But then, no one else had Skeletor’s insider knowledge of the Horde. 

He leaned against a wall –being sure to keep out of the lines of sight of Elmora’s mirror this time- and watched the siblings embrace. For half a second, it made Skeletor think of his own brothers and what they might be doing at this exact moment. Stephan sitting on his Salt Throne in Dyperia, or Randor ruling over all of Eternia. Each of them got to be exactly what they wanted to be, and do exactly what they wanted to do. And Skeletor, he wanted…

His eyes fell on the chronometer on the mantle and realized he let the siblings’ reunion drag on too long. The immobility spell he put on Darkney would be wearing off soon. He’d be decanting new clones and putting together a retrieval force. 

Skeletor wanted to leave. 

“We have to go now.” He told them. 

The siblings broke out of their hug and Elmora fixed Skeletor with a critical stare. She didn’t entirely like him. But he did do what he said he would do. He rescued her brother from the Horde. “I told you I’d help you if you saved Barbo, and you did. What do you want from me in return?”

“I need you to stay in the position you’re already in.” Skeletor informed her. “I need you to keep being Queen of Phantos. To that end, when Darkney and his forces come looking for the prisoner we just broke out, you need to feign ignorance. You know nothing of your brother’s escape. As far as you were aware the Horde still had him. They also can’t find Barbo here. I’ll take him off world with me when I leave.”

Elmora tightened her arm around her brother’s waist. They were only just reunited. She did not want him to be taken from her again so soon. 

But, she also saw the necessity of it. Elmora agreed to help Skeletor in exchange for her brother’s rescue from the Horde. Skeletor held-up his end of the bargain. Reluctantly, Elmora nodded. “And what do you need me to actually do in my position as Queen of Phantos?”

“I have some ore from Krytis.” He told her. “Ore I need refined. You have access to refineries and factories.” 

“You want me to refine your ore for you.” Elmora nodded, understanding. Then a thought occurred to her. “Krytis is another Horde held world. It’s a prison planet and only Horde personnel are allowed to come and go from it. How’d you get any ore off Krytis?”

Skeletor only looked at her, that glamour he was still wearing giving a roguish smirk. “I’ve been at this a while.”

…

Skeletor didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they had left the Phantos system and were no longer in danger of being pursued by Horde fighters. He planned to drop Barbo off on Eternia’s Dark Moon before heading back to Snake Mountain. From what he could tell, Barbo had the kind of open and honest earnestness that would not function well in Skeletor’s overall schemes and plans. He could not integrate Barbo into the ranks of his henchmen. 

He left Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops in the cockpit, trusting the two to be able to pilot them back home without incident, and went to give Barbo the rundown of what happens from here. They’d set him up with a place to stay on the Dark Moon, not too nice as to draw attention, but nice enough that the royal wouldn’t complain. 

But talking did not seem to be what Barbo had in mind when Skeletor knocked on the door to his bunk. 

The moment he announced himself as Skeletor come to talk, and not either of the other two, the door slid open so fast it impacted the inside of the track with a loud THUNK. 

Skeletor stepped inside to find the lights dimmed, and Barbo reclining on the narrow ship’s bunk wearing nothing but a smile. 

Skeletor froze in the doorway, having the oddest feeling of déjà vu. 

“I realized,” Barbo began an explanation, “that I haven’t properly thanked you for rescuing me.”

Standing there, the eyes of Skeletor’s glamour trailed up Barbo’s body. Rounded and well defined calve, powerful looking thighs, semi-erect cock rising up from a tangle of curly dark pubic hair. A waist almost as narrow as his hips, toned and chiseled abdominals shaped into an almost perfect six-pack, equally toned pectorals. All of it covered in a thin layer of body hair. And Barbo, smiling through his beard, looking confident, almost smug. He knew exactly how attractive he was. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Skeletor leaned against the door frame. The lips of his glamour pulling into a smirk of his own. “You seem rather sure of yourself. What makes you think this is even the kind of ‘thank you’ I’m interested in?”

Barbo didn’t change his position. He didn’t look the least bit nervous. He just shifted the position of one hand to begin stroking his already half-hard cock. “Are you uninterested?”

Pausing a second longer, Skeletor considered. It had been so very, very, very long since he last got fucked. And Barbo was exactly his type. Big, muscled, hairy, a little dumb, and very confident. Hell, his confidence was actually more attractive than that giant slice of beef he called a body. Hec-Tor was never as confident. 

“I’m not uninterested.” Skeletor came into the room fully and slid the door shut behind him, making sure to lock it in case either Trap Jaw or Tri-Klops came looking for him. 

Shifting on the narrow ship’s cot, Barbo sat up just enough for Skeletor to come and sit in his lap. 

Skeletor did go over and sit on the cot. On the edge, at the very end of the frame. Not even close to Barbo’s lap. His back partially to the other man as he began unstrapping his boots. As if just taking his armor off at the end of the day. No big deal. Nothing sexy or seductive at all. 

Leaning forward, Barbo began to take Skeletor’s hood off for him. 

The Gar moved faster than Barbo thought he could, standing from the cot, hands going to hold the over his head and make sure it didn’t shift out of place. “That stays on.”

Barbo looked startled for a moment. Confused by the suddenness. 

Skeletor blinked at him. His glamour only concealed the front of his face and head. He always wore his hood nowadays anyway, so Skeletor hadn’t bothered to give the illusion full coverage. He was fairly certain Barbo –or anyone for that matter- wouldn’t wanna sleep with him if they saw what he really looked like. Hell! Skeletor wouldn’t wanna sleep with himself, not with a nightmare face like the one he had now!

“I… have a scar.” He finally offered a flimsy explanation. If you could even call all the soft tissue from your head being magically gone ‘a scar’. “Everything else can come off, though.”

He unclasped his belt buckle. Hec-Tor always had trouble with it, even after years of marriage and countless sexual escapades. So, now, Skeletor just always assumed off-worlders didn’t understand Eternian clothing. The belt fell away and landed on the floor with a muted THUNK. He pushed the armored loincloth down too, and his underwear. 

Now wearing only his hood and the armored gauntlets on his wrists, Skeletor crawled back onto the cot. 

Barbo pulled Skeletor into his lap. Skeletor could feel his hard length press against his back, and he readjusted his position to slide the shaft between the cheeks of his ass. 

“Where do you keep the lube on this ship?” Barbo asked softly into the fabric of his hood. 

“So impatient…” Skeletor crooned, leaning back against the solid wall that was Barbo’s chest. “I thought you were supposed to be thanking me. Where’s the foreplay?”

Barbo’s hands drifted down the chiseled plain of Skeletor’s abs. One hand hooking around the thigh to pull the leg up, the other wrapping around Skeletor’s semi-stiff cock. He stroked up and down, keeping his motions slow. Almost agonizingly slow. 

“Mm, foreplay…” Barbo purred. 

Skeletor rocked his hips, trying to move more rapidly within Bargo’s grip, trying to get him to stroke his cock faster. The motion causing Barbo’s own dick to slide between his ass, stroking it faster than Barbo was stroking him. 

“To put us in the mood.” Skeletor elaborated. 

Circling the head of Skeletor’s dick with his thumb, Barbo spread about a bead of pre-cum. “You seem like you’re already in the mood.” 

Skeletor’s breath hitched. “Nothing gets the blood up like escaping the Horde.” 

“Agreed.” Barbo scraped the flat pallet of his front teeth against Skeletor’s shoulder. “Where do you keep the lube?”

When Skeletor didn’t answer immediately, Barbo quickened the pace of his stroking. Rubbing it faster, and faster until Skeletor was panting and groaning in his lap. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Barbo crooned into the fabric of his hood. “Where did you say the lube was?”

“Bunk chest.” Skeletor managed to gasp out. “Foot of the bed.”

He moved to crawl out of Barbo’s lap to try and grab it, but Barbo wrapped his massive arm around Skeletor’s mid-section, preventing him from going anywhere. 

“Let me get it.” He said, voice thick and husky with arousal. 

He leaned over Skeletor, his massive body completely covering the Gar’s. Skeletor felt the larger man’s pectorals press into his shoulders as Barbo arched his back, bending over his to get at the bunk chest. Skeletor felt himself shiver with anticipation. Barbo was so huge! Not just his giant throbbing cock, but his everything. Wide chest and broad shoulders. Thick muscles that could literally pick Skeletor up if he wanted to. And tall enough to envelop him completely. 

There was a moment’s pause in which Barbo had to search through the bunk chest. But when he pulled his hand out again, he was holding the tube of lubricant. 

Letting himself fall back onto the cot, Barbo pulled Skeletor with him, making sure the smaller man ended up back in his lap. 

Barbo squeezed the lube onto the fingers of his hand, spreading it around, making sure they were nice and slick. He squeezed out a little bit more and to spread onto Skeletor, pressing the pad of his middle finger into the entrance just a little bit. 

Skeletor gasped at the sensation. It had been so long since anything had penetrated him back there, and Barbo’s finger by itself was already so big! 

At his slight gasp, Barbo paused, his fingers moving away slightly. “You are a bottom, right?”

“Versatile.” Skeletor croaked. “But, it’s been a while.”

“I’ll go slow.” Barbo promised. 

His fingers returned to Skeletor’s ass. Running circles around the rim, spreading the lube around more, and massaging the area. 

When Barbo felt Skeletor relax in his arms, Barbo tried pressing a finger in again. Just the pad of his finger tip at first. More to work some of the lube inside. Skeletor’s breath still hitched at the sensation, his hips wriggling in Barbo’s lap. When Skeletor didn’t protest, or voice any discomfort, Barbo moved the finger in deep. 

Still moving slowly. Sinking it in only to about the first joint. Then wiggling it around to loosen up the entrance. Skeletor wasn’t kidding. It must have been a while. He was so tight! For half a moment, Barbo wondered if he was a virgin. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Barbo pressed a kiss to Skeletor’s shoulder, the same spot he raked his teeth against earlier. 

“I can take more.” Skeletor told him, sounding almost as if he were issuing a challenge. A gasping, shallow breathed challenge. 

With his free hand, Barbo pressed it to Skeletor’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, and steadying the other man as he pressed his finger in deeper. Going up to the knuckle. …Then past it. Barbo’s whole finger was inside him now, and Skeletor was so. Fucking. Tight! 

Skeletor moaned at the sensation. 

With the other hand still on his chest, Barbo traveled up Skeletor’s chest. Over his pectorals, heading to the collar bone, and- He paused when he felt something under the fabric of the hood’s cowl-neck collar. A metal chain, warmed by his skin. 

Curious, Barbo maneuvered the chain out from under the hood so that he could get a look at it. 

The chain was nothing special. Plain and utilitarian. Practical interlocking links. But hanging from the chain was a ring. Silver, and just a little tarnished. But still clearly identifiable as a man’s wedding band. 

“You’re married?” Barbo blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Skeletor turned around. Twisting his body in the larger man’s lap to snatch the ring and it’s chain out of his hand. “That was a long time ago.”

Barbo stared at him. Putting the pieces together and drawing his own conclusion. Skeletor said he had been married a long time ago, and he also said that it had been a while since he last had sex. “You lose someone?” Barbo asked, voice gentle and sympathetic. “To the Horde?”

That made sense. Skeletor was the leader of a terrorist faction that was working against the Horde, and he was apparently successful enough at it that Prince Hec-Tor Kur himself was filing Wanted ads for him. Perhaps Skeletor’s motivation was the loss of the one he loved at the hands of the Horde. 

Skeletor readjusted the chain around his neck, and the collar of his hood. Making sure that no metal was showing from under the fabric. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Uh, sure.” Barbo nodded. If it was emotional and painful, he probably didn’t wanna think about it during sex. Kinda a mood killer. “Do you… want me to continue.”

“Yes.” Skeletor assured him. “Just keep your hands below the neck.”

So, Barbo continued. Wiggling the finger that was already inside him. Trying to loosen him up. When Barbo was confident again, he slipped in a second finger. 

Sitting in Barbo’s lap, feeling his fingers moving inside him, Skeletor’s hand drifted up to finger the ring that hung at his throat. He was being fingered by another man, and about to get fucked. With a partner that was everything he could want. Large, and muscular, and hairy, with thick fingers and a huge cock. But all Skeletor could think about now was skinny and frail Hec-Tor. 

“Is this still working for you?” Barbo muttered in Skeletor’s ear, suddenly unsure of what he was doing. 

“Sure.” He muttered back. He did like what was going on with his body. But his mind was now elsewhere. 

Keldor didn’t always top with Hec-Tor. Par-Is, being the perfect diplomatic mediator between her brother and Keldor, managed to convey to Hec-Tor (without hurting his ever precious feelings) that it would be better for his husband if he covered the barbs of his shaft. A silicone sheath that hugged the shaft, but left the tip exposed, so that Hec-Tor could top without causing any discomfort to his husband. 

Their sex-life, and their marriage, improved exponentially because of it. 

Keldor remembered lying awake one night, leaning over Hec-Tor after he already passed out from their love making (and it was ‘love making’ by that point), and thinking he could be happy. …With Hec-Tor. Running a hand over the sharp angle of his cheek bone. Realizing that his space bat face didn’t look quite as nightmarish as it did when their marriage was first arranged. Hec-Tor’s features hadn’t changes at all, but Keldor’s perceptions of them had. Hec-Tor was intelligent, and attentive, and affectionate, and they really did work well together. The military was successful and the Empire was powerful, and Keldor was… content. 

Barbo was about to slip in a third finger. 

But Skeletor pulled away. 

“Did I hurt you?” Barbo asked, concerned. 

“No.” Skeletor assured him, bracing his hands on the larger man’s knees. He –slowly- lifted himself up off Barbo’s finger. “I just-“ 

Skeletor didn’t know what to say. This had never happened to him before. He climbed off the cot and picked his loincloth up off the floor, slipping it back on sans underwear. He picked up his boots, and belt, and any other clothing of his that was on the floor. 

“I just realized- -I can’t do this.”


	23. Weapon's Choice

“Can you carry this for me?” Bow asked. “And say it’s yours.”

He was holding out his bow and quiver of arrows to Adora. They were still covered in a light dusting of potting soil from where he had stashed them the previous day. 

Adora just stared at him. 

“Please?” Bow pleaded with her. “My dads don’t know I’ve been teaching myself archery. But you’re Eternian, right? You come from, like, a warrior culture. They won’t think anything about you carrying a bow and arrows.”

Bow seemed so earnest. Holding the weapons out to her. Eyes silently begging her to just hold onto his weapons for him while they traveled through the Whispering Woods. And it wasn’t like it would be particularly inconvenient for her. The arrows weren’t heavy, and it was such a light and compact bow. 

“Fine.” Adora groaned. “Give ‘em to me.”

“Thanks, Despara.” Bow smiled, passing the bow and quiver to her. “Now, just a heads up, my dad might talk your ear off while we’re walking. We actually moved here to the Whispering Woods because of his research. He’s determined to find the site of Mara’s final battle with the Horde. He’s convinced the secrets of the universe are buried there.”

Adora only scoffed. Everyone in her family knew about Mara’s final battle with the Horde. She the hero, He-Ra, one of the chosen wielders of the Swords. The Sword of Protection was hers. She was killed by a nameless Horde soldier, probably a clone. Her body was later found and retried, laid to rest in the crypts below Castle Grayskull. But the Sword of Protection was not found with her, and it was widely believed that the Horde soldier that killed her took the weapon with them back to Horde World. 

That was the whole reason Eternia even submitted to Imperial rule in the first place. They knew that one planet, without both its champions, did not stand a chance against the near-endless and unrelenting forces of the Horde. 

To Bow she said, “As long as I can get a ship from Dryl and get off this planet, your dad can talk about whatever he wants.”

Bow offered an awkward laugh at that, not sure what the appropriate reaction to that was. He offered her a friendly smile. 

Catra and both of Bow’s fathers were waiting for them by the garden gate. Ready to start their journey, and Lance was already well into a lecture. 

“…but, you see, the interesting thing is, that was actually the only battle between Eternia and the Horde that wasn’t fought on Eternia.” He was saying. “No one knows what Mara was doing on Etheria. We are sister planets and have always been close, even since before Eternia’s King Grayskull settled on the planet. But, usually, Eternia kept their wars contained to their own soil. The defeat of Mara is unique in this regard. Now, my theory is-“

“Dad,” Bow come up to rescue Catra from his enthusiastic father, “Despara got all her weapons and is ready to go.”

“Yup.” Adora smiled at him, snapping the quiver strap against her chest. “You know us Eternians, we’re a warrior culture. Can’t go anywhere without our weapons.”

“Interesting you should mention that!” Lance smiled, the full force of his enthusiasm now focused on Adora. “There’s actually a lot of mysticism surrounding Eternian weapons. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that, you’re Eternian. But I have read quite a number of works –all from different sources- that describe weapons as having spirits of their own and weapons with very powerful spirits can only be wielded by the hand of a compatible user. In a way, the weapon chooses its wielder.” His eyes fell on the recurve end of Bow’s bow that was slung over Adora’s shoulder. “Did you feel a special connection when you got your bow?”

“Uh…” Adora had no idea how to answer that. It wasn’t her bow. 

George placed an affectionate, but pacifying hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m sure the young lady would prefer we get underway. There should be ample time to discuss Eternia, and weapons, and Mara on the way. It’s all up hill to Dryl.”

…

It was all Angella and Micah could do to just stare at all the clones neatly lined up in perfect rows, awaiting orders. There were so many of them!

There was a reason the Imperial Horde was called ‘the Horde’. 

When Princess Adora vanished after Princess Prom, and King Randor said he was going to ask his (former) brother-in-law about it, they were not expecting the Prince Imperial to respond by putting so many of the Empire’s resources at their disposal. 

Angella looked over at the pair of them. Randor –holding a bottle of wine from the cellars in one hand- standing next to Hec-Tor who looked so out of place with his stiff, straight, military posture. It was hard to believe that this was a man who was not only married to, but supposedly in love with Randor’s brother. Angella never met Prince Keldor, but if he was anything like Randor, she did not think he would have had much in common with Hec-Tor. 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find Adora.” Angella announced diplomatically. She did not want to call the sheer number of clones the Prince was contributing ‘overkill’. It was considered bad manners on Etheria to insult a gift. That, and Randor was very distraught, it was his child that was missing. Not only that, but Randor and Hec-Tor both had experienced the disappearance of a loved one once already. For the two of them, there was no such thing as ‘overkill’. 

“This was all I was able to bring down from Monstron, which is in orbit among the moons.” Hec-Tor informed her. “Should the search require more, I can pull units from other sources, but it will take time.”

“Just let Adora go!” Glimmer stood between her parents. Arms crossed over her chest, feet planted. She was about the only one not concerned for the Eternian Princess. “She didn’t want this arrangement and neither do I. She’s doing me a favor by leaving.”

“Glimmer!” Angella admonished her daughter. “You cannot say things like that in front of Adora’s father!”

Randor was taking a long –loud- gulp from the wine bottle he held. He lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth, a drop of wine sinking into his thick beard. 

“It’s fine.” He waved off Angella’s concerns. “Right now, I just wanna find my daughter. Besides, nobody goes into an arranged marriage happy about it. I remember when my brothers were married. Stephan threatened to dive into the sea and never return, and Keldor must have tried to run away half a dozen times.”

Hec-Tor looked at Randor. He never heard about that. The most Keldor ever told him was that he wasn’t given a say in who he married and he resented decisions being made for him. …and that he wanted Eternia. He wanted to be King of Eternia and he hated his father for removing him from the line of succession in order to maintain strong ties with the Empire. 

There was a moment –at the Kings’ moot, right before Randor’s coronation- that Hec-Tor thought Keldor was going to leave him to claim the throne of Eternia. A warrior from the Beastmen race stood from the back pews and nominated Keldor as King, preferring him over Randor. Citing his victories in the battles over the Snake Men, and the fact that he was the late King Miro’s first born, and that –unlike Miro and Randor- Keldor was not what they called a ‘mainland Eternian’ (Keldor was mixed race, Eternia was a world of many races, yet they had never had a ruler of mixed race before). Hec-Tor remembered his heart sinking when Keldor stood up after that nomination to speak before the moot. 

He needn’t have worried. All Keldor stood up to do was refuse the nomination. He lived off world now and was married into a different royal house. He was no longer suited to rule Eternia. The Empire was his home now. Then he sat back down next to Hec-Tor. 

But Keldor never told him anything about trying to run away. 

That seemed like something Keldor would have shared. 

Out loud, Hec-Tor told Glimmer the same thing he told Adora at Princess Prom. “You might feel differently after you are married. But first, Adora must be found.”

Glimmer opened her mouth to argue some more. 

But at that exact moment, Entrapta dropped down from somewhere above. No one was really sure from where. The high ceilings and wide walls of Brightmoon did not have many air ducts or ventilation shafts. Air flowed pretty freely on its own in Brightmoon. 

Reacting without thinking, Hec-Tor put his arms out at if to catch her, but he needn’t have bothered. Entrapta knew what she was doing. She caught herself on her prehensile hair, did a little bounce on the strands and then stood before the group, holding a datapad victoriously in one hand. 

“I’ve been working on an algorithm for some time!” She announced happily. “To track the movements and shifts of the landscape in the Whispering Woods. It won’t help locate the lost Princess since I don’t have any of her personal data, but it should prevent any of the search party from getting lost too.”

“That will be helpful.” Hec-Tor nodded. 

“I thought so.” She smiled at him. Entrapta passed the datapad to Hec-Tor, using the strands of her hair. Her hair stroked his wrist when he took it from her. “I want to be helpful.”

Looking over the bottle of wine, Randor watched the brief interaction between Hec-Tor and his new spouse. If he weren’t preoccupied with finding his daughter, he might have noted how strikingly different they were from how Hec-Tor and Keldor interacted with each other. 

…

Adora still did not like the Whispering Woods, but she had to admit, that it wasn’t as bad trudging through them when she was being led by someone who knew where they were going. George and Lance were the perfect guides. 

Well, George was the perfect guide. 

Lance was a walking lecture hall. 

Talking non-stop about how the Whispering woods was one of the oldest woods on the planet. With still-living trees that had roots dated to be over 2000 years PCE (pre-common era). Mentioning that the magic of the Whispering Woods was so deep and so concentrated, that the woods sometimes functioned as a single organism. A whole and complete magical being. Listing some notable figures from Ethrian history that had walked into the woods and never come out again. 

At some point, Adora started to just tune him out. 

‘Adora…’ But she agreed, the woods were definitely magical. She kept hearing that same whispering voice. Then again, they were called the ‘Whispering Woods’. It was not absurd to hear whispering voices in a magical forest that literally had the word ‘whispering’ in the name. ‘Adora…’

And hearing voices in places of power wasn’t unheard of anyway. Adam told her that he heard a voice calling him once when their dad took them to Castle Grayskull to introduce them to the Sorceress. Sometimes, places with a lot of magic were just… chatty. 

‘Adora…’

It was just really persistent and annoying here in the Whispering Woods. 

‘Adora…’

More annoyed than anything else, Adora veered off the path, following the whispers calling her name. 

“Hey!” Catra called after her. 

“Despara?” Bow echoed. 

Hearing the others call after her, George and Lance stopped walking, turning back just in time to see Adora’s back disappear between the trees, and Catra and Bow dashing after her. 

“Not again!” Catra snarled at the trees around them. This was the same shit she was pulling all they yesterday. Catra would try and lead her one way, the Princess would wander off another way. Trying to lead Adora through the Whispering Woods was like- well, it was like trying to herd a cat. 

“Careful!” Lance shouted after them. “There're more powerful magics that way!”

…

White-clad clone units swarmed the woods. Divided into groups of four, combing between the trees. Each individual unit equipped with a tracker very similar to the ones Entrapta employed to keep her own staff from getting lost in the Crypto Castle. 

The trackers and the new app on her datapad making sure they didn’t waste time searching the same area of the woods twice while other areas in the shifting landscape went ignored. 

There was just one area of the woods that Entrapta couldn’t get a clear read on. 

Her algorithm couldn’t seem to calculate its movements within the rest of the woods’ landscape, and –thus far- none of the clones were able to get inside the area with one of their trackers. It was an anomaly. A black void. A mystery. That made it fascinating. More than just wanting to be helpful and find the missing Princess, Entrapta wanted to get to that black hole in the woods. 

Not only that, but given that they had already searched the vast majority of the woods and had turned up no lost Princess, only a library-private home, a couple different natural well springs of magic, some herds of hibernating beasts, and countless new allergens, that blank space was probably where Adora would be. 

Hanging from a tree above Randor, Entrapta dangled herself upside-down and shoved the datapad in his face. “We should check here!”

Blinking at the screen, Randor stared at what looked like a topographical map of the area with a large blank space in the landscape. It took him a moment to realize what the Princess was trying to tell him. The Whispering Woods were a place of old magics, and ancient magic and modern technology were not very compatible. Magic could easily fool, or sometimes outright destroy, modern digital tech. Randor was no sorcerer, but his brother was, and he did pick up a few things.

“How do we get there?” Randor nodded, agreeing with Entrapta. If they hadn’t found Adora in the rest of the woods, then she was in that blank space. 

“I donno.” Entrapta admitted. “But that’s what makes it so exciting!”

Taken aback by her sheer enthusiasm for the unknown and a possibly dangerous situation, Randor looked to Hec-Tor for help. Princess Entrapta was his spouse now, he would know how to talk to her. “Hec-Tor…?”

Confused for half a moment, seeing Randor looking startled and Entrapta looking enthusiastic, hanging upside-down holding her datapad, Hec-Tor marched over to them to see what was what. “You found something?”

“No.” Entrapta announced happily, using her hair to drift closer to him so he could see the screen of her pad and the data that was projected on it. “And that’s what’s so great! There’s a gap in the woods that my algorithm can’t predict and none of the search party has been able to get to. Isn’t that amazing!”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to say something. Thought better of whatever he was initially going to say, and closed it again. He paused a moment to consider what Entrapta had just told him. She was so much smarter than him and made intuitive leaps so advanced that he was sometimes hard-pressed to play mental catch up. Like when she almost single-handedly handed them their victory at Nordor. 

“Adora is there.” He finally concluded. 

“Well, obviously, I can’t say for sure.” She reminded him. “But since the search parties haven’t found her yet anywhere else, that’s my hypothesis.”

“Hec-Tor?” Randor asked, needed the other man to translate for him. 

“Entrapta’s hypotheses usually turn out correct.” He announced. “We should find a way to get into this… deadzone in the woods.”

Entrapta was suddenly so excited she practically vibrated with anticipation. Slithering down from the tree on her hair, she put both feet on the ground and looked up at Hec-Tor. For a breath of a moment, it looked like she was about to hug him, and he braced himself to be jumped on. 

But she didn’t. 

Instead, Entrapta spread her arms –and her hair- wide but kept her feet where they were. “It’s so great having a spouse who gets me!” She beamed up at him. Then, over her shoulder, “C’mon, Randor, let’s find your daughter!”

…

“Where is she going?” Bow asked Catra. 

They were both hard pressed to keep up with the Eternian Princess. She was moving so quickly, following some kind of guide that only she was aware of, and it seemed like the woods themselves were trying to separate her from her pursuers. George and Lance both had already been left behind, separated from the rest of them by an impassable wall of trees. Catra and Bow only managed to stick as close to Adora as they had thus far by grace of their youth, agility and quick reflexes. 

But every time Adora’s blond ponytail disappeared behind a tree, they thought that was it. They had lost her. 

Finally, they came to a clearing in the woods. 

Nearly running smack into Adora’s back when they did. 

Adora stood still, staring up at an ancient ruin in the center of the clearing. Not particularly large, it was just as tall as the trees. Overgrown with vines, covered in a layer of leaves fallen from the natural changing of the seasons every year. It’s outer wall showing small cracks and fractures. It was clearly very, very old. But the most interesting thing about it was not that it was a previously undiscovered ruin. It was that-

“This is an Eternian ruin.” Adora muttered to no one in particular. 

“Cool, we can send Bow’s dads back here to study it.” Catra growled, trying to catch her breath. “Can we please go now? I’m sick of these woods.”

Adora shrugged Bow’s arrows and quiver off her shoulders and took a step closer to the ruin. 

The place had a similar energy to Castle Grayskull back on Eternia, but it did not look like Castle Grayskull. While Grayskull had a skull-like façade, with the drawbridge coming out of the mouth –the design which earned the structure its name- this castle looked almost more like a pyramid. A pyramid paneled in an exterior façade that sparkled almost like crystal. A Crystal Castle instead. 

“This is what’s been calling me.” Adora announced, again, not speaking to anyone in particular. 

“What?” Catra blinked at the Princess’ back. ‘Calling her’? what kind of insane crap was that? 

Running up to the main entrance, Adora tore vines off the gate. Seeing the ancient script written across the door. A password to unlock it since the entrance had no lock or key. She uttered the word written on the door and it inexplicably slid open for her. 

“What the-!?” Both Catra and Bow stopped short in shock. That old ruin still worked? Wow. They really did build things to last back then. 

Adora slipped inside. 

“Wait, don’t-!” Catra tried to grab the Princess before she could disappear to deep inside the ruin. 

But she was just a little too slow, the door slamming shut behind Adora before Catra could get to her. 

“You idiot!” Catra shouted at the closed door. “You don’t know what’s in there!”

…

Randor hacked at the foliage of the woods. It felt like the trees got denser, the closer they got to… whatever it was they were trying to get to. 

“Ah, turn around, we’re heading away from it again.” Entrapta stopped the next swing by wrapping her hair around his wrist. 

Randor turned to look at her. Did no one each royals about sword safety on Etheria? You do not grab a warrior’s wrist mid sword swing. Not unless you knew what you wanted to get cut. Swords were big, and heavy. They took control. Randor looked back at Hec-Tor for a que as to how to deal with his new spouse. If it were Keldor, he and Randor would just slug each other a little bit and then settle down and everything would be cool between them. But Entrapta was not Keldor. 

Hec-Tor seemed more concerned with where they were, and where they were going rather than Entrapta’s lack of sword safety. He was leaning over her, peering at the datapad in her hands. “How can that be? We were just heading towards it and we traveled in a straight line. How have we passed it?”

“The forest moves, remember.” Entrapta reminded him. She pointed. “It’s this way now.”

Hec-Tor hated these woods. There was nothing in the dossier about how absolutely infuriating Etheria was. He would have appreciated at least a brief warning. A footnote, at least! Hec-Tor sighed to himself. At least he managed to get off the first shipment of weapons before this whole debacle began. That should keep Brother satisfied for some time, and this episode need not slow down production. 

Randor began hacking at the branches in the new direction Entrapta pointed. 

After all this time, anxiety, and headache, they better find Adora. Randor could not lose another family member without trace or explanation. He couldn’t go through that again. And losing his daughter would be so much worse than losing his brother…

The sword sliced through one branch, and Randor raised the blade to deal the same treatment to the next branch. But when the sword came down, it wasn’t the wood of a tree he hit. 

There was a loud resounding CLANG of steel against steel as Randor’s swing was parried by another blade. 

“What the-!?” Both swordsmen took a step back, assuming defensive stances. “What the hell are you?”

Entrapta and Hec-Tor were just a half a step behind him, looking equally as confused. Somehow, their trio had come across another pair of travelers in the Whispering Woods. Both of them middle aged with graying hairs. The swordsman was short, just a few centimeters under Randor’s height. So, not short, but the shorter side of average. He had dark tanned skin and even darker hair, combed out of his face. The taller one did not look much like a warrior –unless he could be a sorcerer, they tended not to look much like warriors. He was similarly dark skinned and dark haired, his hair braided into tight, neat dreadlocks that trailed down his back. 

“Oh my gosh!” Exclaimed the taller one, looking up at Hec-Tor. “You’re the Prince Imperial! Hec-Tor Kur. I heard you were coming to Etheria!” 

The swordsman looked at his companion, then back at Randor and the others. He lowered his sword but did not put it away. He didn’t want to casually threaten a Prince of the Horde Empire. But he also didn’t entirely trust a Prince of the Horde Empire. “What’s a Prince Imperial doing in the Whispering Woods?”

“We’re looking for my daughter!” Randor announced. He had lowered his sword too, but likewise did not put it away. 

“And you are…” The swordsman pressed. 

Without his crown, at first glance, Randor did not look much like I king. He was gruff and scruffy, with wild auburn hair and a thick beard. His tunic and cape were of good material and quality workmanship, tailored to fit him perfectly. But below them he wore only a loincloth of brown fur, as was the style on Eternia. His legs were bare and exposed, and his boots were trimmed in the same fur of his loincloth. Randor did not fit the conventional image of royalty.

“You are addressing King Randor, first of his name, of the House of Miro. The ruler of Eternia.” Hec-Tor announced. 

Both men blinked in surprise. One did not expect to find a ruler of a planet traipsing around the woods on a planet that was no his own. 

Now the swordsman put his sword away. “I’m Georgie, and this is my husband Lance.”

“What are you doing in these woods?” Demanded Randor. 

“We were escorting some travelers through the woods when one of them ran off.” Lance began. “Her companion and our son ran after her and now they’re lost. We were looking for them.”

For the first time since entering the woods, Randor began to relax. He re-sheathed his sword. “My daughter is lost.” He announced. “We are searching these woods for her.”

“An Eternian…” began Lance. 

“…Princess?” Finished George. “She wouldn’t happen to be blond, would she? And I’m guessing ‘Despara’ isn’t her real name.”

Randor groaned, putting a hand to his head and massaging his temple. ‘Despara’ was the fake name Adora used when she snuck out of the castle and ran rampant around Eternos. She was a little bit like her uncle in that regard and Randor sometimes lamented the fact that Keldor disappeared before she got the chance to know him. Randor sometimes felt Keldor could have helped bridge the gap between himself and his daughter. To Lance, he said, “No, that’s not her name.”

Pushing her way between the men, Entrapta lifted herself up on her hair and got almost right in both George and Lance’s faces. “Are you looking for the void in the woods too? How do you navigate the Whispering Woods? Are you using tech? Or magic? Or just your intuition?”

“Entrapta,” Hec-Tor began gently, “perhaps that is something you might discuss with them later. It seems there now are two children missing when before there was only one.”

“Children?” Entrapta looked back up at her husband confused. “I thought Adora was an adult. Was I misinformed? If she’s a child she shouldn’t be getting married yet.”

“She’ll always be my child even though she’s an adult.” Randor reminded her. “And her marriage to the Brightmoon Princess is the last thing on my mind right now!”

“Oh. Right!” Entrapta smiled, relived now that she understood. Hec-Tor didn’t mean that Adora was a literal child, but that she was someone’s child. Refocusing on what they were trying to do, she held up her datapad for Lance and George to see. She pointed to the blank space in her map that her algorithm couldn’t predict and none of the clones had managed to get inside. “We think Adora might be in this area. How do we get there?”

“That’s where we’ve been trying to get to.” George told her. 

“This is one of the places where the forest shifts the most.” Lance explained. “I have gotten turned around so many times while conducting my research. I’m starting to believe this part of the woods is impenetrable.”

“Nonsense.” Hec-Tor insisted. “It’s just a wood. If we cannot access it from the ground, I’ll have a squad of units fly overhead in wing suits. We’ll drop in from above.”

Randor didn’t know a lot about magic, but he did know enough to inform his brother-in-law, “Hec-Tor, that’s not gonna work. If this place is enchanted, the only people who can get in are the ones the enchantment wants to allow in.”

Which was, apparently, none of them. 

But it was Adora…?

…

Inside the Crystal Castle it was… dark. 

At first.

Adora didn’t know where she was apparat from just ‘inside’. She placed a hand to the wall to follow it in the dark. She appeared to be in a long corridor. But that eventually changed. The wall she was fallowing suddenly disappearing from her touch. Adora waved her arms out in front of her. Flailing in the dark. Trying to feel where she was. 

She should not have come in here. This was so stupid. She was smarter than this. Now she was lost in the dark and had no idea how to get out. 

And she used to make fun of Adam for following voices in Castle Grayskull. She was no better! 

“Hello!?” Adora called to the dark. She heard a whispering calling her to this place. Maybe the whispering could help her get out again. “I’m here! I’m the one you called. Adora. I’m from Eternia!”

At the mention of Eternia, the lights flicked on. The whole room –which turned out to be a wide chamber with crystal walls- filling with a soft rosy light. 

In the center of the room, was a Sword. 

“No way!” 

Adora recognized it from her history lessons. But, it was supposed to have been taken by the Horde generations ago. The Sword was one of two. Twin blades meant to be wielded by twin heroes. Mara and her brother, Gray. Gray’s Sword was returned to Castle Grayskull upon his death. It rested in the vaults below the castle. But the second Sword, Mara’s Sword was never found. Everyone believed that it was taken by the Horde after her defeat. 

But, if she were fighting with it in the battle when she died, how did it get here? 

Even if the Horde soldiers that killed her didn’t take it from her body, shouldn’t it be outside someone. Stuck in the dirt. A tangle of vines growing over it, maybe. Not here, very deliberately placed in the center of a castle. 

‘Adora…’ It felt almost like it was the Sword that was whispering to her. 

Crossing the space between them, Adora reached out one hand, about to take the Sword. Her fingers were just a hair’s breadth away from the hilt. 

But then something else caught her eyes. 

Against the far wall. An old and outdated control panel. Defunct technology. No longer used in mainstream Eternia anymore. But Adam did go through a phase where he liked all things retro, and so Adora had a vague idea of how to work it. 

She lowered her hand and walked right past the Sword to examine the control panel. 

Her hand ghosted over the keys, trying to get one to respond to her commands, but also not wanting to try too hard for fear of breaking the old tech. 

A crystal screen flared to life. 

“-Mara, don’t-!” 

Adora looked up at the face projected on the screen. A young man, maybe a little bit older than she was now. Still in his prime. He had coppery, reddish-brown skin, and even darker brown hair. His face was clean shaven, most Eternian men preferred to grow beards. But the set of his jawline and the shape of his lips looked so familiar. It took Adora a moment or two longer to realize the featured looked familiar because she’d seen them before on the men in her family. That was Adam’s jaw. Those were her uncle Stephan’s lips. This man projected on the screen had to be a relative of the family Grayskull. 

She pressed the controls again to try and see more. The recording was very old. Parts of the image were pixilated and every now and again the image flickered. The sound would fuzz out too. But the majority of it was intact enough to be understood. 

“Please, Mara, don’t so this!” He was pleading into the screen. “I can get to you. Just hold on!”

The image recording only showed the receiving transmission. There was no split screen for Adora to see who he was talking to. But the audio had recorded her answer. “You won’t be able to get to me, Gray.” A female voice –presumably Mara- answered back. “It’s not just Horde forces, it’s Pri-Am himself. I’m already losing a lot of blood, but I managed to get the Sword to the Crystal Castle where he can’t get to it. I’ll probably die here, on Etheria, but at least I’ve made sure Pri-Am won’t get his talons on a Sword.”

“We can beat Horde Prime!” Gray insisted. “Please, sister, I-“

The transmission was cut off there. Mara probably shutting it off before her brother could finish whatever it was he was going to say. 

So, that was Gray, huh. That was what He-Ro looked like. 

Adora turned back around to look at the Sword. 

And this was Mara’s Sword. This was the Sword of He-Ra. All this time they thought the Horde had her Sword. But they didn’t. It was right here all along. Safe behind the magical walls of an ancient ruin, hidden in an enchanted forest that’s landscape changed to protect it and keep out intruders. No wonder no one ever found the Sword. It wasn’t meant to be found. 

Except Adroa found it. 

‘Adora…’ the Sword called to her. 

Well, it was said that Eternian weapons had spirits of their own. That the weapon chose its wielder. Maybe Adora was only able to find it because the Sword wanted to be found by her. 

Swallowing a lump of nerves that formed in her throat, Adora reached her hand out again. This time, closing it around the hilt of the Sword. It felt oddly light in her hands. No sword she ever trained with before ever felt so light. She gave it an experimental swing. The balance was so perfect, it was almost an extension of her own arm. She held it in her hands to more closely examine the blade. 

Her reflection looked back at her from its unnaturally shiny surface. But it wasn’t quite her reflection. 

Her hair was just a shade blonder, more golden than flaxen. Her eyes were still blue, but looked brighter, as if lit from some internal light. And on her head she wore some kind of wings helmet or headdress, like the winged visor of a shield maiden. 

“Huh.” Adora shifted the angle of the blade and the odd reflection vanished. 

‘Speak the words…’ the spirit of the Sword told her. 

She wasn’t sure what words it meant. What she was supposed to say. “I’m a relative of Mara.”

Nothing happened. 

Adora didn’t know what she expected. Maybe she didn’t expect anything. This whole adventure was just a little too fantastical, and it was becoming more fantastical by the moment. With a shrug, Adora slung the Sword over her back and moved the leave the Crystal Castle. Maybe if she presented the long-lost Sword to her father, Randor wouldn’t be upset with her for trying to run out on her arranged marriage. Maybe, if he was really, really impressed she wouldn’t have to get married at all!

Catra and Bow were waiting for her outside when she stepped back through the castle gate. 

“What the hell happened to you!?” Catra demanded. 

“I…” How did one explain that they heard a voice only they could hear, which lead them to a castle only they were supposed to find, to collect a legendary weapon only they could wield. “I had to pee.”

“You- you had to-“ Catra looked so frustrated. Her hair and her tail frizzing out, claws raking through her hair. “You are so infuriating! Seriously. You’re worse than Entrapta! Are all Princesses like this!? Scorpia’s not like this! Arg! I can’t stand the lot of you!”

Stomping across the overgrown cobble stones surrounding the Crystal Castle, Catra grabbed Adora by the hand and practically dragged her back to the tree line. 

“Hey! Ow!” Adora protested. 

“Wait, you’re a Princess?” Bow was confused. “Which one?” He’d never heard of any Princess named Despara, not even an Eternian one.

“We are getting out of this wood if it kills me!” Catra snarled at all of them. 

She dragged Adora through the trees, Bow following after them. 

It seemed like such a short time, like they had barely taken any steps at all. But when Bow looked back, he could not see the clearing or the Crystal Castle through the trees. It was almost as if it was never there. 

Then the trio came to a sudden and abrupt halt. 

“Wha-? Oh.”

All three gazed at the stern and reprimanding faces of George, Lance, Prince Imperial Hec-Tor, and King Randor. 

Then Princess Entrapta dropped down from a tree above them. A friendly smile on her face. “Ah, hey, we found you!”


	24. An Old Report

Hec-Tor stood with Entrapta in a corridor of the palace in Brightmoon. Their part in the search was over and Adora was found, they could return to Dryl. But Hec-Tor wanted to wait just a bit longer to make sure Randor was alright. Nothing too terrible had actually happened, but, Randor had lost one family member already and Adora’s running away had stirred up some bad memories. 

Currently, Randor was behind a door, in a room just off the corridor in which Entrapta and Hec-Tor stood. And he was delivering a very loud lecture to his daughter on just how stupid the stunt she pulled was, how much she worried him, did she even know anything about the Whispering Woods? What if something terrible happened to her? But, dad, I found the legendary lost Sword! And don’t even get me started on the dangers of legendary lost artifacts!

Hec-Tor’s ear twitched every now and again as he caught Randor using language that was definitely unbecoming of a King. 

“How much longer do you think they’ll be?” Asked Entrapta. 

“Unclear.” Hec-Tor readjusted his posture. Something must have gotten into his armor while in the woods. Some pollen or irritant of some variety. He itched all over and more than one joint felt tight. As soon as they got back to Dryl he would have to take everything off and clean it, lubricate it, and sterilize it. “When we return to our own castle-“ he had not yet started calling it ‘home’ “-may I use your lab?”

Entrapta looked up at him, noticing that he was not standing in his usual pose of military parade rest and instead bending, and straitening, and re-bending his elbow, eyes focused on the joint. “Of course!” She lifted herself up on her hair, getting closer to his upper body. “Is it your armor? Would you like me to give you an upgrade? We can try those new adaptations I mentioned back on Monstron.”

“That will not be necessary.” Hec-Tor assured her. 

He was raised to be self-sufficient and not bother others with his defects. He would continue to do that. 

Entrapta looked like she was about to argue. But whatever she was going to say was cut off when the door to the room finally opened and Adora stormed out, looking all kinds of pissed off. She offered her uncle a piercing glare, as if she personally blamed him for her father finding her and preventing her from getting away from her marriage. Then she ran down the corridor to an entirely different room and slammed the door. 

Randor stepped out after her, looking all kinds of exhausted. He was holding the Sword Adora found in one hand, and another bottle of wine in the other. 

“How are you?” Asked Hec-Tor. 

Randor took a long sip from the bottle before he answered. “Better than I was when we lost my brother. I swear, that girl is shaving years off my life. I wish she could be more like her brother.”

“Adam is like you.” Hec-Tor asserted, never having actually met the boy since he was an infant. “Adora is like Keldor. He did not take well to being told what to do either.”

“Can you blame her?” Asked Entrapta. “Nobody likes being told what to do. People want to make their own decision, and they should be allowed to. Especially about their own lives. When you lock someone in a room, they’ll just find a vent.”

Randor looked her up and down, giving Entrapta a more critical examination than he had before. At Princess Prom he was at a party and meeting so many new people from all over Etheria, it hadn’t clearly registered in his mind who Princess Entrapta of Dryl was exactly. In the woods, he was too preoccupied with finding his daughter to really care. But now that Adora was safe and he could start calming down, Randor could note and appreciate just how different from his brother Hec-Tor’s new spouse really was. 

Keldor was always a very passionate person. Passionate and intense. Perhaps, sometimes, he was a little too intense for someone like Hec-Tor. Randor recalled the reception party after his coronation when Keldor picked Hec-Tor up, pressed him against a wall, and grinded over their clothing. (Which was a totally normal thing on Eternia and, in fact, they were not the only couple –or group- doing it.) But, Hec-Tor just seemed… a little uncomfortable with such an explicit public display. 

Entrapta seemed more like the type to respect a person’s personal and social boundaries. To ask before shoving them against a flat surface and making out, and if they said ‘no’ then waiting until they were in a less public space, or more in the mood. At least, she seemed that way to Randor. 

He missed his brother, but he also cared about his brother-in-law and decided that Entrapta was probably the better partner for him. And they couldn’t dwell on Keldor forever. Eventually, people had to move on. It was good that Hec-Tor appeared to be moving on with Entrapta. Randor approved. 

He didn’t say any of that out loud, however. 

Instead, Randor asked, “How will you punish your servant, Catra, for trying to run away with my daughter?”

“Punish her?” Entrapta looked genuinely confused by the question. “For what? Helping someone? Should Angella and Micah punish that boy, Bow, too?”

Randor frowned, not liking that answer. 

Hec-Tor cleared his throat, drawing the other man’s attention. He pointed to the Sword. “What will you do with that, Randor?”

He had to set his wine bottle down of the floor to lift the Sword in both hands. It felt so heavy to him. Not heavy with the weight of the metal it was made of, ‘heavy’ of a more magical variety. Like the weapon did not belong in his hands and it was making its displeasure of being held by one who was not its Chosen known. Clearly, Randor was not one of the Chosen Ones meant to wield the Legendary Swords. 

“You know, it’s funny.” He said. “My whole life, I was always taught that you actually had this Sword.”

“Me?” Hec-Tor raised one bald brow, confused. 

“Not you, personally.” Randor clarified. “I meant, your Empire. The Horde. The Sword was lost in one of our battles with the Horde, before we joined the Empire, and we always just assumed that it wasn’t lost it was taken. We thought you- the Horde took it after the battle. In fact, I used to think that Keldor’s marriage to you was our father trying to broker for the Sword’s return. I never imagined it was actually so close to home. All that time…”

Hec-Tor scratched at his neck near the collar of his armor. That did not actually answer his question. But that was fine, he supposed. Hec-Tor had no vested interest in an ancient heirloom that had been rusting in an old wood. Probably getting dull and warped. It would hardly be a weapon any more. It belonged in a museum. Perhaps he’d take Imp to see it one day. He should learn a little of the history of his other father’s people. 

Randor cleared his throat, as if remembering that there were other people with him in the hall than just himself and the Sword. “I’ll take it back to Castle Grayskull. The Sorceress will place it in the vaults next to its twin. The Swords should be together.”

“What about Adora?” Asked Entrapta. “Are you still gonna force her to do something she clearly doesn’t want to do?”

Randor heaved a sigh. He lowered the Sword and picked his wine back up, taking another long sip. “That actually depends on Angella and Micah. They may very well decide to break off the engagement thanks to this little episode. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He shrugged, refocusing his attention on Hec-Tor. “Either way, I’ll be returning to Eternia soon. This might be the last time we see each other, so I’ll say good-bye now.”

Hec-Tor offered his hand for Randor to shake. 

Randor hugged him instead. 

…

Back in Dryl, in the lab, Entrapta watched her spouse clean his armor. 

His shoulders bare, his ports plugged with sterile plugs. The backless gown he wore exposing the bones of his shoulders when he moved. A few vertebra poking out when he bent forward. His skin was so thin and the discoloration made him look so pale, the flesh was almost translucent and even in the dim light of the lab, Entrapta could see the outline of his under-developed muscles. 

He really was a fascinating specimen. Entrapta was only expecting to get near limitless resources and funding from her contract with the Empire. She was not expecting her spouse to be so interesting. 

She liked his body. 

Entrapta wanted to examine it again. More thoroughly than she had on their wedding night. And she wanted to do more than examine it. She wanted to do much more than just examine. She wanted to taste and to touch –with her hands, not just her hair- and she wanted to feel it. 

In the privacy of her lab, where she felt most comfortable, or perhaps a bedroom where he might feel more comfortable. Without the prying eyes of an audience to make sure the act was completed. 

Flicking her hair, Entrapta snapped her mask down over her face to hide her intense blush. She didn’t know how to broach the subject with him. Hec-Tor always seemed so very formal. Even with her, his wife, whom he had already slept with once already. And sex was always a sensitive subject for most cultures, and individuals. Entrapta just didn’t know how to communicate what she wanted without scaring him off. 

Hearing her mask clank down over her face, Hec-Tor turned around, forming his own assumption. He already noted before that she covered her face when she was feeling uncomfortable. 

“I apologize for invading your Sanctum like this.” He said. “I assure you, I am almost done. I will be out soon.”

Ooh, he called her lab a ‘sanctum’ that was so classy! 

Mask still over her face, Entrapta shook her head. “You didn’t ‘invade’ anything. I’ve been trying to get you in my lab since before we got to Etheria. I’m the one who keeps offering to upgrade your armor.”

“I appreciate the offer.” He told her. “But I will not distract you with my own defects. You should focus on your work for the Empire. I will focus on mine. Together we’ll serve our purposes.”

Mask still over her face, Entrapta looked away. There had to be more to their marriage than just the cold and clinical service of a purpose. 

…

Before turning in for the night, Hec-Tor stopped in his office to make sure the shipment that was supposed to be sent out before Randor interrupted really did get shipped out. 

He took one look at his desk and froze. 

There, sitting on top of the desk and a little off to the side, was a single, lone datacard. 

Hec-Tor picked it up and saw that it was one on the search for Keldor. But the search for Keldor was ended months ago. On the eve of his wedding to Entrapta. There wouldn’t be any new updates on it. Hec-Tor marched from the room. 

He found Grizzlor. His Lieutenant’s shift had ended and he was asleep in his own suite in the castle, but Hec-Tor used his administrator privileges to let himself into the room to wake him. The lights flicked up with an unnecessary dramatic flair. 

Grizzlor jerked awake. 

“Huh? Wha-? Wha’s goin’ on?” He slurred, still half asleep. Grizzlor was always collected and professional –when he was on duty. At the moment, he was not on duty and he was no collected and professional. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and blinking against the lights. “Your Highness? Is something wrong? The Eternian-?”

“What is this?” Hec-Tor shoved the datacard in Grizzlor’s face. 

It took him a moment or two staring at the label on the datacard to recognize it. “That. Oh.” He yawned, and stretched. “I found that when Mantenna and I were going over the ship. It had fallen behind the bed in your quarters. I didn’t get the chance to return it to you until recently. We were all so busy.”

So, it was an old card. Not a new update. Of course it had to be old. The search was ended. There would be no new updates. Ever again. Looking at the label on the card again, Hec-Tor felt immeasurably stupid. It was dated just a few days after he stopped reading the cards. If he had just taken a moment longer to read the label more critically, he could have saved himself the embarrassment of waking his Lieutenant when he was off duty and resting. 

“Oh.” Was all the Prince said. 

Then he left. 

Grizzlor flopped back down in bed with a sigh and pulled the blankets over his head. He was too sleepy to get up and turn the lights back off. 

…

Feeling immeasurably stupid, Hec-Tor went back to his own room intent on getting some rest of his own. He was already tired before the debacle with Adora began and he was even more tired now. 

Tossing the datacard onto his bedside table, Hec-Tor did not even bother taking his armor off before he crawled into his own bed, intent on going to sleep. 

But he could not sleep. 

He rolled over, and rolled over again. Tossing and turning. Thinking about how they almost lost Adora today. Without any note, or explanation. And how it felt so similar to Keldor. Both he and Randor felt it. Every moment of the search for Adora felt like the early days of the search for Keldor –just on a smaller scale. They found Adora. But they never did find Keldor. 

Sitting back up in bed, Hec-Tor snatched the datacard from his bedside table and shoved it into his datapad. 

He was expecting it to say ‘no new leads’ or ‘forces continue to search’ same as every other datacard before and after it had said. There never was any development in the search for Keldor. Hec-Tor didn’t even know why he was checking. 

That was why it took his brain so very, very long to register the veritable wall of text that looked back at him from the datapad’s screen. Not a one-line update. Not a disappointing apology. Not a short assurance that they were still looking. But an actual report. A report with dates, and locations, and details. Hec-Tor blinked at it. He checked the date one more time. This datacard was old. Only a few short weeks after Hec-Tor had given up on reading the cards. Which would explain why he never saw this report before. He was just shoving them all in a drawer by that point. 

Breathing in deep, Hec-Tor braced himself for what he was about to read. He didn’t know if it was going to be good or bad. But it might finally give him the answers he and Randor never got. 

‘Imperial Date: 03-12-3456

‘Working off a hunch, I decided to take my investigations to Eternia. Prince Imperial Keldor was originally an Eternian Prince by birth and he never forgot his origin or his culture, continuing to dress in Eternian clothing and fight along side the military as Eternian leaders do. Eternia seemed the place to search.’

Hec-Tor scoffed. 

They searched Eternia. The moment Randor learned of his brother’s disappearance, that was the first place he searched. His own back yard. 

Maybe it was a good thing Hec-Tor never read this report before. This investigator was an idiot. He hoped they fired them. If they hadn’t fired them already, then Hec-Tor was going to fire them after he got some rest. 

He was about to turn off the pad and got to sleep, but a couple words near the bottom of the screen caught his eyes. ‘…a place the locals call Snake Mountain.’

Hec-Tor remembered Randor sharing with him that he saw a Gar he thought could have been Keldor and followed him, getting lost near a place he called ‘Snake Mountain’. 

Scrolling past the paragraphs explaining their thought process and investigation techniques, Hec-Tor skipped ahead to that part. 

‘Imperial Date: 03-16-3456

‘My inquiries delving deeper into Prince Imperial Keldor’s past lead me to the Dark Hemisphere of the planet, to a place the locals call Snake Mountain. Previously, it was the seat of power for an enemy faction known as the Snake Men and lead by megalomaniacle ruled dubbed King Hiss. It was also said to be the site of Prince Imperial Keldor’s first significant battle victory, at the age of fifteen. 

‘There is a fortress in Snake Mountain. Abandoned many years now, after the defeat of King Hiss, but locals who live near the border of the Dark Hemisphere say there has been activity in the old ruin. Activity which appeared to begin not long after the Prince’s disappearance. Taking into account travel times between Horde World and Eternia, it is possible for these activities to be connected to the Prince’s disappearance. 

‘I have managed to procure a floor plan for the abandoned fortress and hired a guide to take me through the Dark Hemisphere to Snake Mountain. 

‘Perhaps my next report will provide out Prince with the answers he seeks.’

Hec-Tor dragged his finger up the screen, but the text did not scroll. The file ended there. That was the whole of the report. That was all there was. The first real report on the search for Keldor that Hec-Tor had seen in years –literal years- and it ended on a cliffhanger. What did the investigator find at Snake Mountain? Did he find anything at all? 

The next report would have already been scrubbed by data processing back at the Imperial palace on Horde World. There was no way for Hec-Tor to pull up the next report. He drummed his talons on the side of the datapad. There had to be a way to find out what the investigator learned. 

All imperial investigators were required to stamp their reports with ID numbers. Hec-Tor copied the ID number of the investigator and opened up a different app on his datapad, searching through the database of Horde personal. It took a long time to pull up the record of the one he wanted. The archine was huge. They had a lot of people working for them. They were called ‘the Horde’ for a reason. 

Hec-Tor yawned. He really was tired. 

Finally, the personnel file he wanted pulled up. Hec-Tor was expecting to use the file to connect a call to the investigator directly so that he could question them about what they found at Snake Mountain. He was disappointed to see the large, red, [DECEASED] stamp projected across the file. 

Of course. 

Of course he was. 

The files were scrubbed and the investigator was dead and could not be questions. Of course that was the case. Hec-Tor didn’t know why he allowed himself to hope that something might be different. That something might have changed. Was it Adora? Because she was found so easily and so fast. Did it give him a new hope on some unconscious level? 

When had the idiot died? Could he at least had some time to gossip to his co-workers about what he might have found at Snake Mountain? Maybe Hec-Tor could interview them. 

He paused, staring at the date of death. 

Imperial Date: 03-17-3456. The day after their report was submitted. The day they were supposed to have gone to Snake Mountain. 

Whatever actually was at Snake Mountain, it killed them. They might not have found Keldor. But they did find something. Maybe it wasn’t Keldor. Smugglers and pirates also made their bases in abandoned fortresses in remote areas. There was no reason to assume that it was Keldor. The investigator found something and he was killed for it, but that did not mean he found Keldor. 

But, Snake Mountain was a place of significance for Keldor. 

So, what if it was…?

Hec-Tor called Mantenna, whom was on duty at the moment. “Prepare a shuttle for me.” He ordered. “I will be leaving for Eternia as soon as I am rested.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” Came back his Lieutenant’s acknowledgement. “May I ask what-“

Hec-Tor ended the call before Mantenna could finish the question. He really was very tired. This was probably a terrible idea. But he was too exhausted to care. 

They found Adora today. Maybe he could find closure for Keldor tomorrow.


	25. The Search for Keldor

Hec-Tor didn’t know if Randor was on his way back to Eternia already, or if he was staying a bit longer on Etheria with Adora. Either way, he did not want to bother the other man until he actually had something to bother him with. Losing Keldor was hard for both of them and Hec-Tor did not want to give Randor false hope. 

Hell! Hec-Tor didn’t even wanna give himself false hope! 

But here he was. Chasing down a years old lead that had run cold, and doing it himself. Not sending any of his Lieutenants or underlings to follow-up. And doing it alone. He left Grizzlor and Mantenna behind in Dryl to continue his work for the Empire for him. 

He landed the ship in a small, almost out of the way space port. The closest –official- space port to the border between the Light Hemisphere and the Dark Hemisphere he could find. 

The names ‘Dark Hemisphere’ and ‘Light Hemisphere’ were misnomers. Eternia was not a planet split in half, with a dark side and a light side. Each hemisphere got the exact same amount of sunlight. Days and night, sun rises and sunsets. Same as any other planet that orbits a star. The term ‘Light Hemisphere’ with capital letters referred to continents and territories of Eternia that were under the control of, and loyal to the mainland government, the royal family of the House of Grayskull, who’s seat of power was Eternos. The ‘Dark Hemisphere’, also with capitals, referred to the parts of the planet that did not accept or acknowledge royal rule or authority. 

Before leaving the ship, Hec-Tor changed out of his Imperial gown and into some Eternian clothes. 

It was an outfit he requested be made some time ago. Shortly after Randor’s coronation before he and Keldor returned to Horde World. Hec-Tor had never actually worn it out in public –Keldor never let it stay on him long enough for them to go out- but even if he had, Hec-Tor would have felt so absurd. Eternian fashion was absurd. Leather, and fur, and exposed skin. 

A leather shirt-vest bearing the winged emblem of the Horde, even wearing Eternian clothes, he was still a Prince of the Horde Empire. With a still hood rising off the back to protect the ports on the back of his neck. All of it trimmed in a blones motif that Keldor favored. The shirt-vest was tucked into a loincloth made of black fur. Silky and soft, the softest fur that could be found on Eternia, Hec-Tor spared no expense on the luxury. Below the loincloth, his legs were bare. The boots were black, and similarly trimmed in bones, same as the vest, but with plates around the ankles and tops of the feet. Just a little light armor. 

Wearing it, Hec-Tor felt so exposed. Almost naked. How did Eternians get to be so comfortable showing off their bodies so much? 

But, the Eternian clothing would help him blend in and seem less out of place. Eternia was a world of many races and peoples. So the fact that he was a space bat did not mean much. Most would just assume he was an odd looking member of the Gargoyle tribe. But if he walked around dressed as a Prince Imperial of the Horde, that would get people to notice and make them suspicious. 

So would going by the name ‘Hec-Tor’. 

He took an extra moment to practice his alias in the mirror. 

“My name is Hordak.” He frowned, that sounded inorganic and forced. “Hordak, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Nope. That was even worse. Too friendly. He even made himself uncomfortable with that one. “I am Hordak.”

That was it, that was the one. ‘I am Hordak.’

Feeling about as ready as he was going to, Hec-Tor, or rather Hordak, exited the ship. 

The port town was not the kind of place Hec-Tor would normally visit. The buildings were short and ill maintained, the streets narrow and filthy. Neighbors strung lines between their windows and hung their clothing on them. The shops had bars on the windows and the doors. More than one tavern had a sign in the window saying ‘Bartender Wanted: must fight good’. It was not the kind of place Prince Imperial Hec-Tor would be caught dead-or-alive in. 

But Hordak went to dirty taverns in slums all the time. Hordak got into bar fights with his husband, and flipped tables. Maybe he also passed out on the floor once or twice. Hordak lead a wild life! 

He walked into the first tavern he saw. It had swinging saloon-style doors and hardwood floors. He took one step inside, rested his weight on one floor board, and heard an uncommonly loud creak. 

It was like one of those old clichés from the stories. Everyone already in the tavern looked up from their drinks. Noted the tall stranger in the doorway, silhouetted against the noon-day sun, and a number of them casually drifted their hands to their weapons. Inwardly, Hec-Tor cringed. He hated this. But Hordak threw a smug smirk on his face and swaggered up to the bar.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Asked the bartender, wiping the space in front of Hordak with a dirty dish towel. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking what I’ll be having?” Hordak deflected the question. Not many people outside the Horde knew what a space bat looked like. 

The bartender’s four eyes flicked down to the winged emblem on his chest. “You with the Horde?”

“Occasionally.” Hordak answered vaguely. “You with the monarchy?”

“Occasionally.” Answered the bartender. They set an empty glass in front of him. “What’ll you be having?”

“Information.” Was Hordak’s short clip of a response. 

“Go to a library.” The bartender told him. There were no libraries in this out-of-the-way port town.

The bartender filled the glass in front of him with a frothy liquid from the hose-tap. Hordak smelled the alcohol coming off the froth and knew immediately that he could not drink it. What was it with Eternians and their alcohol? Couldn’t they just drink water, or juice, or non-alcoholic fizzy drinks like Entrapta? 

“I doubt a library would be able to tell me what I want to know about Snake Mountain.” Hordak whispered over the frothing glass. 

The bartender leaned back. “What does the Horde want with Snake Mountain?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hordak leaned forward over the bar, keeping the gap between them small. “That depends on if there’s anything interesting at Snake Mountain.”

The bartender shook their head, looking almost scared. “Oh, no. I’m not getting mixed up in that. You wanna know about the sorcerer of Snake Mountain, you go somewhere else.”

A sorcerer at Snake Mountain? That was interesting. 

Keldor was a sorcerer. 

All this time, Hec-Tor had been operating under the belief that Keldor was taken in some way. Abducted or kidnapped. Randor agreed. Keldor would never leave him willingly. He was a Prince of the Empire. He and Hec-Tor were happy. They were going to have a child together. The only bad thing that ever happened to either of them was that Par-Is died, and neither were handling it very well. Keldor spent hours –sometimes days- in his magical study, watching over Imp in his tank, or reading books on macabre and forbidden magics. He was going through a hard time. They were both going through a hard time. 

Hec-Tor didn’t think it was so bad that Keldor would leave. 

He shook his head. Pushing back from the bar. 

No. Keldor would not leave on his own. He had to have been abducted somehow. Keldor was a powerful sorcerer, but that didn’t mean he was the most powerful sorcerer. What if this sorcerer at Snake Mountain was more powerful than him? What if this other sorcerer was keeping him prisoner for some reason?

Hordak left the tavern. 

He needed to find somewhere else to find out about this mysterious sorcerer at Snake Mountain. 

Maybe another village closer to the border. This was the town the space port was in, but it was not the settlement closest to Snake Mountain or the border of the Dark Hemisphere. 

It just so happened, there was a small village nearly right on the border. Randor hadn’t mentioned a name, but Hec-Tor decided this had to be when Randor was in his story. The one where he followed a hooded Gar almost all the way to Snake Mountain. The sad little wall of crumbling cobble stone with a sign that said ‘Danger None Shall Pass’ could be seen from the village market. 

The village itself was tiny. Consisting of one main street, mostly lined with shops, with residential homes on top. There was a school, a bank, a market, various craftsmen services, general supplies, a stable for beasts, a small hanger for hover vehicles, no sheriff’s building or jail to speak of, but two taverns. 

He chose another one with swinging doors and this time when Hordak entered, he checked the floor boards and measured his step so as to avoid any loud clichéd creaks. 

Hordak needn’t have worried. Most of the tavern patrons attention was already engaged. Listening to, or throwing things (or both) at member of the Beastmen race that was standing up on a table against the far wall. 

He was wearing only a single teal-blue loincloth. The rest of his body covered in thick layers of reddish brown fur, as was common for his race. His face bald of fur and on it he bore several tattoos in geometric lines inlayed with tribal designs. Not just a member of the Beasmen race, but a Beastmen warrior. 

Hordak appeared to have come in, in the middle of what might have been a passionate speech on the failings of the monarchy. 

“Miro was more concerned with fucking his mistresses than he was ruling his people!” The Beastman was saying. “And Randor is no different. He leaves the planet and his throne to go meddle in his daughter’s love life!”

There were a few mumbled agreements from the crowd. It seemed Randor and the monarchy were not very beloved by those who lived far from the capital. 

“I fought for the monarchy!” Beastman continued. “I was a soldier under King Miro. I was there in the Battle of Two Kings when we breached the barrier protecting Snake Mountain and overthrew Hiss. And I was a damn good soldier too! What did I get as my reward for my service? A scar, and a discharge. When I returned home it was to find the monarchy had forced my people off our ancestral land, relocating us to a dry, semi-barren waste. As much as Miro liked to fuck non-mainlander women, he didn’t care much for non-mainlander people.”

This assessment got much, much more enthusiastic a response. Some patrons even going so far as to thrust their fists up into the air with a loud ‘Yeah!’ or ‘The son of a bitch!’ of agreement. 

“Eternia is a world of many races. Yet we’ve never had a ruler that wasn’t a pale-faced mainlander, the same as every other pale-faced mainlander to come before him!”

The bartender came from around the bar to physically pull Beastman down from the table he was standing on. “Hush!” They shushed him. “These are not sentiments you should be voicing in front of a Horde agent.” 

Of everyone in the tavern, the bartender was the only one to have noticed Hordak entered. 

He was starting at Beastman. There was something familiar about him. He hadn’t seen many of the Beastmen race in person and, in all honesty, a great many of them did look the same to him. But their tattoos were always different. Within the Beastman culture, tattoos weren’t cosmetic, they were earned, and this Beastman had earned many tattoos for a warrior. He had a scar cutting down his face through one eye, and that too was uncommon. But the thing that was most telling was his mention of the Battle of Two Kings, when Miro’s forces finally defeated King Hiss. 

It was the exact same battle the Beastman who nominated Keldor referenced at the Kings Moot before Randor’s coronation. 

This Beastman was the same one. The one who had wanted Keldor as his King. 

Hordak noted every face in the tavern had turned to him. He forced an uncaring shrug. “The Great and Eternal Horde Empire does not concern itself with local disputes. If you wish to overthrow your King, you may –so long as the new leadership you install remains loyal to the Empire.”

Jumping down from the table, Beastman pushed his way through the small circle of other patrons to get to Hordak. They were of a similar height, almost eye-level with each other. 

Beastman glared at those glassy and hard to read crimson eyes, without iris or pupil. It was sometimes hard for other species to read space bat expressions. The secret was to look at the ears, not the eyes. 

Beastman was not looking at his ears. 

“Really?” He asked. “You wouldn’t care if we overthrew your Prince Imperial’s brother?”

Actually, Hec-Tor would care. He would care a lot. And he had some very strong opinions about the idea. He was definitely going to be passing this information along to Randor when he was done. But right now, he was not Prince Imperial Hec-Tor Kur of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. Right now, he was just another space bat named Hordak. 

“Prince Keldor has been gone for some time.” Hordak shrugged again, trying to look as unaffected and uncaring as he could. “And our Prince Hec-Tor has remarried. Do as you please on Eternia. Just so long as you continue to pay your tithes to the Horde.”

He brushed past Beastman to sit at the bar. 

Beastman followed him. 

Leaning against the bar next to Hordak, he looked him up and down. “Don’t get many Horde agents out this far.” He commented. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

They had not been formally introduced, but they did attend the same Kings Moot and coronation almost twenty years ago, so… yes? Hordak cleared his throat. “I was bodyguard to the Prince Imperials Hec-Tor and his husband Keldor when they came to attend the coronation of your current King Randor.”

“Bodyguard?” Beastman echoed. He was so skinny. It looked like he could be knocked over with a feather. “You don’t look much like a fighter.”

“Well, you don’t look much like a political radical, but here we are.” Hordak flagged down the bartender and ordered a water. 

Beastman watched him drink it, not quite sure what to make of this skinny Horde agent wearing Eternian clothes but bearing the emblem on the Horde. He was sure he’d seen him before but not as a bodyguard. He just couldn’t quite remember where. 

“So, Mr…”

“Hordak.” Supplied the agent. “I am Hordak.”

“Mr. Hordak, what brings you this close to the border?” Beastman asked. 

“I am seeking the sorcerer who has taken up residence at Snake Mountain.” Hordak supplied. “Do you know of him.”

Something flashed behind Beastman’s eyes. Some kind of recognition. But Hordak didn’t know what it was. Recognition of who he was, his cover blown, or recognition of the sorcerer at Snake Mountain. 

“I know of him.” Beastman nodded. “He’s very crafty. Big ambitions beyond Eternia. Dangerous too. I wouldn’t get mixed up with him.”

“I thank you for the warning.” Hordak pushed back from the bar. He took out a standard Imperial credit chip and tossed it on the bar counter (even though water was free). “All I needed was a confirmation that such a person exists and is there. But the extra information was helpful.”

Hordak left. 

If this villain, this sorcerer of Snake Mountain had ambitions beyond Eternia, he could have kidnapped Keldor to use his power for his evil machinations. That didn’t mean he was still alive. The body of a sorcerer could be just as useful for dark magics as the living sorcerer himself could be. Hec-Tor had to prepare himself for the worst. 

But, either way, he was going to Snake Mountain. 

After he left the tavern, Beastman went back to his own table and grabbed his rucksack. He pulled out his communicator and switched it on. “Unwanted attention coming your way.” He muttered into the transmitter. “Imperial agent. Space bat by the looks of him, wearing Eternian clothes. Looks kinda funny, like he’s sick or something.”

There was a pause in which the channel only crackled and Beastman wondered if the one on the other end got the message. 

Then a woman’s voice answered. “I’ll take care of it.”

…

Randor wasn’t kidding when he said it was easy to get lost among the rocks around Snake Mountain. 

Many of the rocks were taller than he was. Jagged, with narrow trails and passages threading between them. No wonder this place was the seat of power for the Snake Men, one needed to be a snake to travel comfortably through the labyrinthine landscape. 

Hordak scraped his armor against a sharp edge more than once. 

He could see Snake Mountain rising up out of the jagged landscape. Tall peaks, as narrow and sharp as needles piercing the sky. The tallest of which had a massive serpent-like sculpture carved from the very living rock of the mountain side. That had to be the castle at Snake Mountain. 

As he drew closer to the slopes, the landscape began to grow flatter. Not in a natural way. The tall, sharp rocks and labyrinthine turns did not slowly fall away, growing less tall or less jagged as he traveled. The change was more abrupt. More like the rocks have be crushed or knocked over by outside forces. Outside forces like a battle. 

There was a cracked shield under a pile of rocks painted in the colors of the House of Grayskull. A faded and threadbare banner on a broken poll hearing an emblem of a five-headed serpent, presumably the crest of King Hiss, Hordak didn’t know. Remnants of the Battle of Two Kings that no one felt the need to collect. 

There were bodies too. Mostly serpentine in shape. Elongated spines. The Snake Men must have been very tall. As tall as space bats, even. Long necks, and narrow shoulders. Long, multi-jointed arms. But very few of the skeletons had legs. The lower halves of their bodies seemed to be nothing more than vertebra extending down past where an average bipedal being’s feet would end. King Miro’s forces might have collected the bodies of their own fallen, but they left the Snake Men’s dead behind to feed the crows. 

At the foot of the mountain, right where the land began to slope up, there was a short little line of stones. Like the foundations stones of some kind of wall. But there was no wall and the foundation stones barely even came up to Hordak’s ankles. Perhaps the remnants of the ‘barrier’ Miro’s forces had to breach before they could storm the stronghold? Hordak realized he didn’t actually know much about the battle to hazard a guess. All he really knew was the it was the battle that made Miro’s victory over Hiss, and that it was the battle in which Keldor got a nasty scar on his back. A wound the nearly killed him. 

But, Eternia was also a world of magic, so Hordak paused before crossing the line of stones. Checked for anything that looked out of place. Looked for odd glyphs, or runes, or symbols carved into the rock. Then, when he found none, stepped over the line slowly. 

Nothing happened. 

Hordak waited. 

Still nothing happened. So, he shrugged and continued on his journey. 

Climbing up the mountain was a narrow, winding stair. Looking like it was cut out of the rock of the mountainside, same as the serpent sculpture that encircled it. Whoever these Snake Men were, they must have been amazing craftsmen to use the natural landscape for their building. Hordak just wished they made their stairs and paths cuts a bit wider or less steep to accommodate beings with legs and knees, and wide shoulders. There were points where the stair got so steep Hordak had to literally climb, and parts that were so narrow, he had to turn his body and shimmy sideways to get through. 

How in all the worlds did Miro get his army up this narrow ass stair?

Well, magic. Obviously. This was Eternia. 

But still! This was a little absurd!

Hordak was climbing through another steep segment of the passage when his hand caught a lose stone. He fell several meters, clawing at the side with his talons, but he couldn’t find purchase. Talons and armor scraped against rock as he fell. Hordak managed to close his hand around a small shrub and that stopped his fall for a second. But the moment his weight jerked, the roots gave out and the shrub fell from its hold. 

Hordak hit the ground with a hard SMACK! 

His vision swam. The silhouette of Snake Mountain against the sky kaleidoscopeing into countless facets behind his eyes, before his vision went black and Hordak passed out. 

He never should have come here alone. 

This was a terrible idea. 

…

Hec-Tor faded in and out of consciousness. 

When he was lucid, all he was aware of was aching pain all over his body. His head pounding like he’d hit it on something. His shoulders biting as if the joints of his armor were warped and cutting into him. His lower back throbbing like he slept on it wrong. Everything stiff like he’d laid on a hard surface without moving for too long. 

When he wasn’t lucid he dreamed. 

Or, he thought he dreamed. 

A curtain of ebony hair lifting out of the way to reveal a rough gnarled scar knitted into dusky blue skin. Almost a straight line cutting on a slight diagonal between the shoulder blades. ‘This one was bad!’

Of himself siting in the middle of a path in the Imperial gardens, holding his skinned knee and hissing in pain as the clones administered anti-septic and liquid bandage. Par-Is standing over him, her hands on her hips as if she we somehow so much more mature than him. ‘This is what happens when you try to do things on your own. I need to find someone to take care of you.’

Par-Is and Keldor sitting side by side in those same gardens. ‘Oh. You’re together.’

‘You’ve grown quite close to my sister.’ Himself, relining against Keldor’s well muscled chest, his dusky blue arms encircling him. 

‘She’s my best friend.’ Keldor admitted with a sigh. 

Of Keldor raging after Par-Is’ death. Throwing pillows and décor. Snarling Eternian and Garish battle cries at no one in particular. 

Of Keldor poring over his magical books. Dusty old tomes full of dark, arcane, and macabre spells. No one ever uttered the word ‘necromancy’, but it was there, in the hushed sound of a page turn. 

Of Hec-Tor running to find Keldor, having just learned that Par-Is’ crypt had been broken into and her bones were stolen. 

But He couldn’t find Keldor. 

Keldor was gone. 

And so was Par-Is.

…

When Hec-Tor finally woke for real, he didn’t know where he was. 

On a bed, obviously. 

It wasn’t the softest mattress in the universe, but it was a mattress in a frame. In a room with stone walls and an unfamiliar stone ceiling. All of it looking like chiseled rock instead of masonry blocks. As if the room he was in was carved out instead of built. 

Someone had removed his armor while he was out, and his ports were plugged with silicone plugs he did not recognize as any of his own. 

He sat up. 

A little too quickly. 

Hec-Tor’s head swam and he felt himself begin to pass out before his head fell back on the pillow. 

The second time he woke up, there was a person in the room with him. 

This time, Hec-Tor did not try to sit up. 

He laid there, glowing crimson eyes studying the woman who stood over him. Checking his pulse at his wrist, measuring his breathing, moving a finger in front of his eyes. 

She looked Eternian, but then, Eternia was a world of many races so that didn’t mean much. She looked like an Eternian mainlander, pale skin, more of an olive shade compared to Randor’s more lily-pinkish hue. Wearing a skintight leotard that showed off her legs, some light armor on her chest that looked more decorative than functional outlining the shape of her breasts, painted lips, dark eyes, and an ornate headdress on her head, like a helmet with fins. 

The woman was not familiar to him at all. Hec-Tor was quite sure they had never met before. But, he also had the oddest feeling that he knew her somehow. That they were inexplicably connected. 

“Who are you?” He demanded. 

“I’m the person who saved you.” She informed him, not giving a name. “Now that you’re awake, stand up, try to walk for me. I need to see if there’re any injuries I missed.”

“You healed me?” Hec-Tor asked skeptically. His whole body ached all over. He did not feel like he was healed. 

“What I could.” She nodded. “Some things are just your body’s natural state and magic cannot change that.”

He looked down at himself. He was still wearing the Eternian shirt-vest and fur loincloth, so he could not actually see the discolorations on his upper body, but Hec-Tor knew that was what she was referring to. His defects. The discoloration, sensitive skin, muscles that were weak without his armor, easy to fatigue, headaches, dizziness, and fainting spells. This woman might have healed his injuries from his fall, but she could not heal all of him with her magic. 

With her magic…? “Are you the sorcerer of Snake Mountain?”

He assumed the sorcerer would be a man simply because everyone kept using the word ‘sorcerer’, not the more feminine variation ‘sorceress’. She should have realized that ‘sorcerer’ could also be a gender neutral term and did not automatically imply the gender identity of the one it was describing. When he got back to Dryl, he was going to take a moment to reexamine his own personal preconceptions. 

The woman laughed. As if the idea of her being the sorcerer of Snake Mountain was an absurd idea. “That dramatic bitch? Gosh, no! He’s away on business at the moment.”

“Oh.” Hec-Tor flopped back on the bed. 

The sorcerer of Snake Mountain wasn’t even here right now. He’d made this absurd trip, and gotten himself injured for absolutely no reason. This probably didn’t even pertain to Keldor. The Horde investigator that came here years ago probably died on another absurdly steep segment of the path. That was why their date of death was listed as the date after their final report. They caught a loose stone on the path, same as Hec-Tor did, fell, probably hit their head on a rock, and died. Nothing nefarious at all. He-Tor was feeling immensely stupid right now. 

He turned his head, looking at the woman again. There was something so very, very familiar about her. 

It wasn’t her face. Hec-Tor was sure they’d never met before. It wasn’t her clothing, everyone on Eternia showed about as much or even more skin than she was. It wasn’t her voice. But, still, there was just something about her… As if Hec-Tor already knew her.

“Who are you?” He asked again, realizing that she didn’t actually give him a real answer the first time. 

She hesitated for a moment. Almost as if she was unsure of her own name. Or perhaps she had so many titles she didn’t know what name to give. 

Finally, after a prolonged pause, she said, “I’m called Evil-Lyn.”

The name was not familiar to him. 

But she still was. 

“Have we met before?” He asked. 

Evil-Lyn offered him a gentle, almost sad smile. “Perhaps in another life.”

He continued to stare at her. 

“Stand up.” Evil-Lyn told him again. “Slowly, so you don’t pass out.” She offered a hand to help him out of bed. “As soon as I’m satisfied you’re alright, I’ll take you back to your ship.”

Taking her offered hand to help him climb out of bed, Hec-Tor looked up at her. “Why?”

“Because here is not where you belong.” She informed him. She pulled on his arm, hoisting him to his feet. 

Evil-Lyn was much, much shorter than him. About average height for a non-space bat. She was probably taller than Entrapta, but on him her eye-line only came up to about his pectorals. Hec-Tor was used to the vast majority of beings in the universe being shorter than him. Space bats were tall. Only Admiral Callix and a handful of others he’d met personally were taller than him. It was not strange for this woman to be shorter than him. 

But for some reason he felt like it was. He felt like she should be the same height as a space bat. He felt like she should be his exact same height. That they should be on an equal eye-level. The fact that they weren’t confused him, and Hec-Tor didn’t understand why. 

“How do you know where I belong?” He asked her. 

“I don’t know where you do belong.” She clarified. “But I do know where you don’t belong, and you don’t belong here.”

Evil-Lyn started walking around him, examining the skin around his ports, checking for redness or irritation. Reaching a hand out, she would gently squeeze his muscles, asking if the pressure was uncomfortable or if he felt any pain. How bad was the pain? On a scale of 1 to 10. Walk in a straight line for me. Stand on one foot. Now the other. Touch your nasal cavity. Okay, your coordination seems fine. 

Hec-Tor grumbled some choice words under his breath. He hadn’t had someone fuss over him like this since Par-Is and Keldor were still around. 

“Are you quite satisfied?” He barked.

“Almost.” She assured him. “There’s just one more thing. Follow me.”

Evil-Lyn exited the room. 

For half a moment, Hec-Tor thought about refusing to follow her out of spite. He was a Prince Imperial of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. He did not take orders from strangers he only just met after waking up in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar fortress, on an only casually familiar planet. How dare she presume to command him! Who was she even? Some nobody, that’s who!

But then he realized there was nothing else for him in this otherwise empty room. He had no reason to stay other than to spite Evil-Lyn presuming to tell him what to do. Hec-Tor did a quick little sprint to catch up to her. 

It wasn’t just the room he woke up in that looked chiseled out of the mountain, the passage outside was too. There were no stones in the walls. No bricks or mortars. No pieces put together. Everything was carved from the natural minerals of the mountain side. Hec-Tor could see the lines where it changed from granite, to andesite, and other minerals and stones he couldn’t name. 

Evil-Lyn lead him to what looked like some kind of grand hall. It was large and cavernous. With a high ceiling, a raised dais at one end, and a throne upon the dais. With a wide seat and curved armrests, covered in a bone motif for decoration. Evil-Lyn did not lead him to the throne. Instead, she sat down at a table that had already been set with two place settings and a selection of food. There was a pitcher of some iced beverage and two glasses. 

“Sit.” She told him. 

When Hec-Tor did not immediatly do as she said, Evil-Lyn took out a small plastic case and shook it to rattle around what was inside it. Hec-Tor felt a stab of panic when he recognized it as the small travel case he put his medications in before leaving his ship. 

“You’ll need to eat if you plan on taking these.” She reminded him. “So, sit.”

He continued to stand. 

“I haven’t poisoned anything.” Evil-Lyn assured him. 

“How do you know so much about me?” Asked Hec-Tor. No one outside his own family should know so much about him. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She assured him. 

Hec-Tor did sit down. But he did not begin to eat. He just continued to stare at Evil-Lyn. There was something so eerily familiar about her. He was sure he’d never met her before. But something about her was compelling him to trust her. That she wasn’t lying when she said she meant him no harm. That she actually wanted to help him and had his better interests at heart. 

That was absurd, of course. 

But that was what his instincts were telling him. 

Finally, he did sit down and Evil-Lyn pored him a glass of the iced drink from the pitcher. He caught the scent of lavender mint tea. “My sister used to drink this.”

Evil-Lyn paused. Just a quantum of a second. Her eyes flicked to meet Hec-Tor’s almost startled. Then she lowered them again just as quickly. “It’s a good drink.” She said. “Your sister has good taste.”

Hec-Tor took a sip. It was good, he had to agree. He never quite liked it to the extent that Par-Is liked it. He wasn’t bit on mint. But he did have to admit that it did help soothe the throat and calm the mind. 

“What brings you to Snake Mountain, Prince Hec-Tor?” Evil-Lyn asked. She poured a glass of the lavender mint tea for herself, from the same pitcher. Hec-Tor waited to watch her take a sip of hers before drinking his own. 

“I’m seeking someone.” He answered, wondering why he was telling this woman –this stranger- the truth. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know her intentions. Even if she was as kind and altruistic as she was appearing to be, he was a Prince of the Horde. Who was she? Some nobody squatting in an abandoned fortress in the middle of nowhere. He was not obligated to tell her anything. And yet- “My husband. Prince Imperial Keldor.”

For some reason Evil-Lyn looked disappointed by that. 

She served a portion of food onto his plate instead of commenting. “Eat something. So you can take your meds.”

Damn, even the food she served looked like something they used to eat back at the Imperial palace. Lower quality, obviously, and a few of the ingredients looked like they had to be substituted with things that were more readily available and easy to get on Eternia. But it was essentially the same. 

Cutting off a small piece, Hec-Tor took an experimental bite. 

It even tasted almost the same. 

Hec-Tor took his pill case and tipped the medications into his mouth, washing them down with the lavender mint tea. Then he took a larger bit of the food. 

“Why are you searching for Prince Keldor.” Asked Evil-Lyn. “I thought your spouse was Princess Entrapta of Dryl.”

“She is.” Hec-Tor confirmed. That was a matter of public record. There was no reason for him to try and hide that. This Evil-Lyn already seemed to know so much about him. “Keldor was my spouse before Entrapta.”

“I know that.” Evil-Lyn assured him. “I meant, Keldor has been gone from your life for so long. Why try seeking him out now?”

“I am not just seeking him out ‘now’!” Hec-Tor snarled at her. “I have been searching for Keldor from the moment he disappeared. I have expended countless man-hours and resources of the Horde Empire searching for him. I have gone nights without sleep, I have driven my staff half mad, and have allocated military personnel to finding Keldor! This is not a new thing! I have been desperate to find him for year!”

Evil-Lyn just sipped her tea. “Sounds like you haven’t left yourself much room for anything else in your life.”

“I still do my work for the Empire.” Hec-Tor snapped, feeling oddly indignant. 

“And what about yourself?” She asked. “Have you left room for yourself between your desperate searching for Keldor and your work for the Horde? Have you left room to be happy?”

“I’ll be happy when I find Keldor.” He informed her. 

Evil-Lyn took a bite of her own food. “Mm. And what does your new spouse think of that?”

“Entrapta-“ Hec-Tor began a statement, then quickly realized he had no idea what he was about to say about Entrapta. ‘Entrapta would understand’, would she? ‘Entrapta is not the one I’m concerned with’, but that wasn’t true, she was his wife and her feelings were to be considered. ‘Entrapta is not the one I love’, that was true, but he did respect her. Hec-Tor might not love her, but he did respect her. He recognized how intelligent and brilliant she was. She was always kind to him and considered his special needs that were not common among most beings. Imp liked her… 

“Did you even tell her you were looking for your ex when you left to come here?” Evil-Lyn pressed. 

Hec-Tor did not answer. He only told Entrapta that he was going to Eternia on personal business. It was right after the debacle with Randor and Adora. He let Entrapta draw her own conclusions about why he might be leaving to Eternia on ‘personal business’. 

Taking his silence for the admission it was, Evil-Lyn asked another question. “Has Entrapta done something to earn your distrust? Has she been cruel to you? Mistreated you, or your son?”

“No.” Hec-Tor muttered to his plate, feeling oddly like a small child being reprimanded for bad behavior. 

Why did this woman make him feel like he was being lectured by his mother, or by… his sister?

“Let’s say you did find Keldor.” Evil-Lyn leaned back in her seat, holding her glass of lavender mint tea in her hand. “Let’s say you were reunited like you always wanted and you brought him back with you to your new home in Dryl. What would you have told Entrapta about him? What would you have told him about your new spouse? How do you think either of them would feel about you in that situation? Do you think Keldor would be happy? Do you think Entrapta would be happy? Would you be happy?”

Hec-Tor scowled. He did not like the line of thinking these questions were making him consider. 

Keldor had been gone so long. He didn’t know what to think anymore. 

“What is your point in these questions?” He finally demanded. 

Evil-Lyn took a long sip of her iced tea. 

She set the glass back down on the table, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. “Keldor is gone.” She began. “Whether he is dead, or simply missing, kidnapped, murdered, or run away. Keldor is not with you anymore. It has been years and Keldor has not been returned to you, either living or dead. You cannot dwell on his loss forever.” 

“He’s the parent of my son!” Hec-Tor snapped. 

“And your son has no memory of him.” Evil-Lyn reminded him. “Your own memories of him might not even be as accurate as you choose to remember. The Keldor you remember in your heart might not even be the real Keldor. Memory is a funny thing and it clouded by our feelings. It’s not real. But you know what is real? You are real. Your new marriage and the new life that goes with it is real. You could be happy, Prince Imperial Hec-Tor. But only if you allow yourself to be.”

He blinked at her. 

That was not what he was expecting to hear from a stranger. That was not what he was expecting to hear from a stranger at all. 

“Who are you?” He asked again. 

“I told you: I’m called Evil-Lyn. Now, eat your food. You need to have more in your stomach to take your meds.” She took a bite of her own food, as if to show him how. 

Hec-Tor did take a bite of his own food. More because he had already swallowed his medications and knew she was right. He would need more in his stomach. He chewed over what she said as he chewed his food. 

They were married for months now, he and Entrapta. Yet, they hadn’t really talked very much in that time. She knew he was once married, and he knew she had an ex-girlfriend. But they never really talked about their past lovers, or what they wanted in a relationship. 

Maybe Evil-Lyn was right. 

He should talk to Entrapta when he got home.


	26. Long Overdue Talk

“Entrapta?”

She was welding and almost didn’t hear over the sounds of heat cutting though metal. The speaker was so low, sounding almost dejected. It took a moment for her mind to register the sound she heard was her own name. 

Turning off the torch and lifting her goggles, Entrapta looked behind her. 

Hec-Tor was standing in the doorway to her lab. Wearing Eternian clothes that showed off his legs and bare shoulders. She had seen him without his armor before but it took her a moment to realize why he wasn’t wearing it now. 

Because the dented and mangled metal torso he held in one hand was his armor. 

“Wah! What happened to it!?” 

Entrapta was across the room in moments, rolling on the wheels of her chair, using her hair to propel herself. She gathered up the armor, wrapping tendrils of hair around it and practically yanking it out of Hec-Tor’s hand. 

She turned it over, and over again. Examining the damage. The back plating was almost completely caved in, the joints snapped open at the shoulders, the protective insulation around the spinal line ruptured, exposing the interior of the line to the elements. If Hec-Tor had been wearing the armor when the damage occurred, he should have been paralyzed from the neck down, or worse, dead! 

Entrapta looked back up at him. 

Hec-Tor looked fine. 

A little uncomfortable. But otherwise his normal less-than-healthy self. 

“I…” He began, then trailed off. As if unsure of what it was he even wanted to say. “My armor was damaged.” He finally announced. “You have made several offers to construct new adaptations for me. I- I was wondering- if it would not interfere with your other work, would you still be willing to make new armor for me?”

It was near impossible for Entrapta to contain her enthusiasm. 

“Would I!” She spun around the room in her chair, cackling almost manically. Her hair twirling around her. 

She made a full circuit and a half of the room before coming to a stop in front of her main computer array. Tendrils of hair dancing wildly over the keyboards, she pulled up rough designs and fully rendered blueprints of a variety of armor designs for him. Heavy armors with thick plating with a built-in arm canon for combat. Light weight armors for quick movement and increased agility. Insulated armors for environmental extremes. Armors with storage vials and delivery systems for his medications so that he did not always have to remember to swallow his medications at meals. Medium armors for average, everyday wear. 

Turning back around, Entrapta beamed across the room at him. “What do you think? Do you like any of them? I got a lot of ideas from the mutant parts you let me take from Nordor.”

It was all Hec-Tor could do to stare at the screens. 

He was imagining her just helping him rebuild his old armor just with a few of the modifications she mentioned to him before. She was not expecting her to present him with a- with a catalogue of armors to choose from. It was so much more than he was even hoping for, all Hec-Tor could do was stand there and stare for a good minute. 

“I-“ he began to say, “I like them all.”

If possible, her smile only widened more. He liked all of her designs. That was so validating. 

“We can make them all!” She announced happily. “Eventually. We’ll get you into one tonight and work on the others in our spare time. I’m thinking the medium model for everyday use would be the most practical. Most of your activity appears to be document work at your desk, so we can augment my base design to support your lower back and lumbar region.”

“That-“ he didn’t know what to say, “-is more than ideal.”

“Great!” Entrapta cartwheeled away from the computer array and over to a work table strewn with machine parts. “Stand over here!”

That was the only warning Hec-Tor got before Entrapta’s hair wrapped itself around him and whisked him off his feet. She plunked him back down in an upright standing position exactly where she wanted him to be. Hair under his wrists pushed his arms up, while more hair grabbed his ears making sure his neck was facing forward. 

“I already made up a couple of the components I told you about before.” She explained as automated machines danced around him, piecing together components before fitting them to his body. “Less bulky cabling. Smaller tubing, but more of it layered over your body. All of it covered in plating to protect it and you, but lighter for better mobility and less muscle fatigue. The interior is a little more concave than your old armor, the shape will give the plating more strength since I made it thinner to be lighter.”

Hec-Tor felt like he was being enveloped by the automated machinery. He hissed at the feel of new and unfamiliar connectors being plugged into his ports. There was a tingling running up his spine, and the taste of pineapple in his mouth. His ears rang with a distinctly artificial sound that he was sure only he could hear. 

When the automated machines were done, they pulled out of the way. Folding up into the darkness of the ceiling from which they had come and Hec-Tor saw Entrapta. Smiling at him on the same eye-level. Held up by her hair and laying on her belly, her face resting in her hands propped up by her elbows. 

Hec-Tor stared at her. That was… that was it. It was over? 

“How does it feel?” She asked. 

He looked down at himself and saw that his torso was, indeed, covered in new armor. Constructed over his clothes, so there still might have to be some modifications for it to lay flat over his skin. But, otherwise, it felt like it was already a part of him. Like a second skin. Hec-Tor flexed his arms, feeling how the new armor moved with him. 

“It feels good.” He announced. “It feels like…” what he always imagined having a healthy body might feel like “…it feels like me. But, more me.”

“I made to it be more of an exoskeleton.” Entrapta explained. “So that it would function as a part of your body instead of just clothing with benefits.” 

Wanting to test the new armor, Hec-Tor walked to the largest item in the lab that was closest to him. The worktable all the exoskeleton pieces were just on. He lifted it with ease. It was a metal table, probably aluminum, designed to be lightweight. He turned, looking for something heavier. A free-standing robots arm with a large pillar support and wide base. That looked heavy. Heavier than the table. Hec-Tor crossed the space to it and picked that up instead. 

It was heavier. Hec-Tor could feel the weight in his hands. There was discomfort in his arms, the discomfort of muscles having to do the work for which they were made, but no actual strain. No pain. It wasn’t the armor doing all the work, and it wasn’t his muscles shouldering the burden while the armor just prevented injury. It was both of them working together. His own body combined with the adaptation of the exoskeleton. A perfect, symbiotic meeting of flesh and machine. 

Hec-Tor set the equipment back down and straightened. Looking at his hand and forearm, admiring the craftsmanship. Keldor’s exorcise regimen never offered him such a perfect compromise of his body’s defects. 

Keldor…

Hec-Tor lowered his arm. 

He looked back at Entrapta. 

And sighed. 

“I have been unfair to you.” He announced. 

Entrapta blinked at him, confused. She let herself down from her hair, and looked up at him with both feet on the ground. “What do you mean?”

“I told you I was going to Eternia on ‘personal business’.” Hec-Tor reminded her. “I did not tell you what that personal business was.”

“Oh.” She did not seem the least bit bothered. “I just assumed it had to do with Randor. I know he was your brother-in-law and you two seem to still be close. He just went through a thing with his daughter and you’re a parent too and can empathize. You didn’t say you were going to see Randor, but all the data was there, so I just drew a conclusion based on the information I already had.” She smiled at him. 

Hec-Tor suddenly felt like such a scoundrel. True he had not actually told her any lies. But he had withheld information which allowed her to believe something that was untrue. He felt like a liar. 

“I did not see Randor at all during my time on Eternia.” Hec-Tor confessed. “I did not even pass close to Eternos.”

“Oh.” Entrapta said again, offering a nod to indicate that she was taking in the information. Then she frowned. Her nose crinkling with confusion as her mind processed this new information. “Huh.”

“The reason I went to Eternia was to-“ He cut himself off, unsure of what to say exactly. How was he going to phrase this. How did you tell your current spouse that you were so hung-up on your past spouse that you lied to them and left them to go and search for your old flame? “I was looking for Keldor. My husband from before you. I was trying to find him.”

“Oh.” Entrapta said again, taking in the information. “I didn’t know he was still alive.” A pause. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Hec-Tor confessed. 

“Okay.” Entrapta nodded. Then slid her welding mask down over her face. Then turned her back to him and began fiddling with the various machine parts around the lab. Not actually putting anything together. Just moving stuff around and generally looking busy. 

Hec-Tor watched her back for several moments. Her hair extending in almost every direction. Picking pieces up, bringing them closer to her, examining them, then putting them back down not in the same place she picked them up from. She was looking for a distraction, not a project. There was a tension in her shoulders and a stiffness in her back. Her posture betraying the feelings she was hoping the welding mask would hide. 

“I’ve upset you.” Hec-Tor concluded. 

“I’m just remembering data you told me before our wedding.” She informed him without turning about. “You told me very early on that you did not want me and were only fulfilling our contract. I misinterpreted some of our later interactions and chose to disregard your earlier statement. I know I’m not good at understanding people. I should have been more cautious with my assumptions. Especially considering the conflicting data.”

“Entrapta-“ He tried to begin a statement but realized he didn’t actually know what to say. 

Hec-Tor stood there, staring at Entrapta’s back. He thought about what Evil-Lyn told him at Snake Mountain. His feelings for Keldor might never go away, but Keldor was not here anymore and Entrapta was. Entrapta was real and right in front of him. Hec-Tor might never see Keldor again, but he couldn’t let the memory of what they had together spoil the current relationship he had. Especially not when his current relationship was still new and fragile. They were married more than two months now, but he and Entrapta were still largely strangers to each other. 

“I-“ He tried to being again. “I didn’t find Keldor. He’s been gone five years and none of the searches have ever found him. I don’t know why I thought this time would be different, but it was foolish of me. I was being foolish. My foolishness caused me to mislead you, my spouse and partner, go to another planet alone, where I had an accident that rendered my armor irreparable, and would have killed me were it not for the miraculous kindness of a complete stranger. Yes, I am still in love with Keldor. But, my feelings- my… obsession with finding him has caused me to lie to you, and place myself in physical danger. I- it’s time I learn to let Keldor go, and- I feel I should do that with you.”

Her shoulders sagged for a moment. 

But she gave no other indication that she heard him. 

“Entrapta?” He ventured. “I… would like to look at you as we talk. If- if that would be alright with you.”

She did turn around. Mask still on her face. But at least she was looking at him. 

Entrapta’s hair reached up into the darkness of the ceiling, must have looped around something up there, then came back down. She raised herself up and sat in her hair as if it were a swing. Mask still on her face, she rested her chin in her hands. 

“You know, we haven’t talked about our exes yet.” She finally announced. “I read on a datacard on Dating Etiquette that you shouldn’t talk about your ex on a first date. But before our wedding, all of our ‘dates’ kinda blended together, I wasn’t sure where the division was. So I didn’t bring up Perfuma before Princess Prom where she would be there and you could just meet her yourself. But then after you met her you didn’t ask about her at all, so I just assumed it wasn’t time yet. And I know about Keldor. Or, well, I know what the dossier said about Keldor. That he was from Eternia originally, that he was half-Gar, a warrior-mage, that he fought with you when you would command the military in person, he’s Imp’s other father, and he disappeared without a trace five years ago. Then I thought maybe we didn’t need to talk about our exes because all the information we would need was in the dossier.”

“I would like to tell you about Keldor.” Hec-Tor announced. “And if you would like to talk about Perfuma, I’d like to hear anything you want to share.”

There was a pregnant pause. 

His statement hung in the air between them. 

All Hec-Tor could do was stare at the impassive metal face of her welding mask. 

Finally, a tendril of her hair reached across the room to retrieve her wheelie chair and pull it over for him.

Taking the hint, Hec-Tor sat down. 

“Perfuma was my first relationship with an organic being.” Entrapta announced. “I wasn’t with her very long, but I was really really nervous the whole time we were together. I’d only been with A.I. programs, or robots before, and they were easy because I understand robots, and A.I., and tech. It’s all lines of data and code. I can please an A.I. Pleasing an organic person is a lot harder.” 

Hec-Tor nodded. “People are much harder to predict than an artificial being who’s behaviors have been programmed.” 

“I tried really, really hard, though.” Entrapta swore. “I’m not good at understanding people, but I try to understand them in ways that make sense to me. I do research, and I perform tests. I want to get things right! At first, Perfuma seemed pleased with the results of my research and tests, and I think she was happy. I was happy, at least.” 

Entrapta paused, her head turning and the glowing eye-lenses of the welding mask fixed on something on the far side of the room. Some other side project that was laid out over a work table and covered with a sheet. Hec-Tor didn’t know what it was. He assumed it was one of her left-over experiments on how to please Perfuma. 

“I really like research and data collection.” She continued. “It’s fun for me, and I feel like it allows me to understand the rest of the world. I wanted to show Perfuma. I thought that she would appreciate the science of it as much as I do, or if not the science, then at least the effort. So, I showed her my tests. She… did not react the way I predicted. She said my research was perverse and broke up with me, right here in my lab. And she- and she said that I’d never find anyone to be with because I was ‘sick’.”

For some reason, that last statement filled Hec-Tor with a righteous rage. It hit closer to home than he was expecting and he stood from the chair. 

“That is absurd!” He roared, unnecessarily loud. “What an utterly repugnant thing to say! If Princess Perfuma believes you are sick, then what of me? I have been sick from the moment they pulled me from my mother’s womb. How utterly- -unimaginative of her!”

Finally, Entrapta lifted her mask. She looked at him with caution. Her feelings guarded. “I didn’t tell you what my experiments were.”

“I do not care!” He was still shouting. “To think that someone is undeserving of companionship just because they are…” here he paused, searching for a word that could apply to both of them “…atypical.” 

Entrapta smiled at him. Not a very wide smile. Certainly nothing as big or enthusiastic as when he asked her to build him new armor. The smile she gave was small and slight, and a little fragile. But it was a smile none the less. She liked what he said, even if she didn’t fully trust his sincerity. It was nice to hear. 

“I take it Keldor held no shut narrow minded feelings.” She made a hypothesis based of the data. 

Hec-Tor sat back down in the wheelie chair. Flopped back down in it, actually. The chair rolling back a couple centimeters before he stopped himself. 

“Keldor was a little rough around the edges at first. When we were young and our engagement was still new, he dragged me into some dangerous situations. He pushed me over walls, and took me to disreputable bars, and got us into fights with the locals. But he never treated me like I couldn’t do things. Even when I really couldn’t. He took me to the same dangerous places he went to, and offered me the same food or drink he ate. Even after we were married, he never tried to coddle me. He challenged me to be more physical and active. I actually managed to gain a significant amount of body weight when we were together because of it. Everyone on Eternia is a warrior, even their Princes and their sorcerers. They know how to train warriors on Eternia, even people who don’t look like they would be warriors. Keldor devised a workout regimen for me that accounted for my defects and limitations. It took us more than a couple tries to get it right, and I passed out more than once. But I was gaining weight and muscle. My circulation was better and my heart was healthier. Keldor did that for me.”

A tendril of hair slithered up to slide Enterapta’s mask back over her face. “Jee, Keldor sounds pretty perfect.”

“He wasn’t.” Hec-Tor was quick to add, not wanting her to feel inferior to a memory. “Keldor wasn’t perfect. He was stubborn, and bossy, and half-wild. He would bully his way into coming on military strikes with me, and beam down to fight in battles even though I didn’t want him to. When I gave strict orders to the energizer room staff not to allow him to teleport, he’d just draw a circle on the floor and use his magic to teleport himself. He was always coming back covered in blood and I never knew how much of it was his own and how much of it was the enemies’. On Horde World, when he finally figured out how to slip his bodyguards in the city, he would come home drunk, or covered in someone else’s blood, or both. He worried me endlessly! Keldor was not perfect.”

“Wow.” Entrapta said from behind her mask. “He sounds like a hot mess.”

“So hot…” Hec-Tor agreed without thinking. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified. “I mean- Keldor was a warrior, and he took good care of his body. He- he had a nice body. Very… very healthy.” He cleared his throat, and added, “Your body is also healthy.”

Entrapta’s head pulled back a fraction of a centimeter. Her mask was still on, so he couldn’t see her expression and Hec-Tor had no idea how to interpret the action. She looked at herself. Baggy clothing hiding most of her figure. “I’m out of shape.”

“Shape does not concern me.” He assured her. “I appreciate a healthy body.”

“Thanks.” She said, mask still hiding her face. “I like your body too. It’s interesting.”

Hec-Tor looked away. “Thank you. That is kind of you to say. But I have lost a significant amount of mass since his disappearance. I am aware that I am not longer as… healthy as I used to be.”

“I said ‘interesting’.” Entrapta repeated. She lifted her mask again. “I like interesting things.”

“Oh.” His cheeks colored a modest shade of pink. 

He had noticed that she liked interesting things, and the things she found interesting were not always conventional interests. On Horde World, she was more interested in seeing the inner workings of the shieldwall than she was the view from atop it. During their journey to Ehteria, she was fascinated by the mutants of Nordor’s adaptations and looted their dead bodies for them. She thought his armor was so interesting that she designed an entire catalogue of armor for him on her own and without being asked. Maybe Entrapta wasn’t just being nice when she said she found his body interesting, maybe she really did find it interesting …and she liked interesting things. 

…Which mean she did like his body. 

That modest pink deepened to a more vibrant rose and Hec-Tor found himself having to clear his throat which felt suddenly very tight. 

He stood from the chair. “I am glad we had this talk. I should go now. There is a lot of work that I have been ignoring. I’ll need to rest well if it’s to be done. But I need a dust bath before I can go to sleep. And I came straight here when I got back, I have not checked in on Imp.” 

He fled the lab. 

Entrpata watched him leave. Confused at first. She thought they were having a good talk. Until he suddenly got all nervous and left. 

She lifted her mask, nose crinkling as she went over their conversation in her mind. Trying to analyze all the new data and try to understand. 

Unfortunately, Entrapta was pretty bad at understanding other people.


	27. Raid on Robotica

Skeletor was exhausted when he got back to Snake Mountain. Exhausted and frustrated. 

His mission on Phantos went great! 

But then Barbo had to go and make him all kinds of hot and bothered, but then his own stupid hang-ups had to get in the way of his actually getting fucked! 

They dropped Barbo off on the Dark Moon, taking just enough time to set him up with a modest castle and an income that would keep him comfortable. That way, Queen Elmora wouldn’t have cause to worry about him, and Barbo wouldn’t have cause to complain and possibly draw attention to himself. Skeletor left Bardo on the Dark Moon where he could forget about him quickly and easily. 

Except now he was all kinds of horny but repressed, and really really frustrated and angry because of it. 

He stomped through the corridors of Snake Mountain, climbed the stairs that lead up to the wing they had refurbished as living quarters, and slammed the door to his cell. 

Skeletor flopped down on the bed dramatically, like the distraught heroin in a period romance novel, one arm thrown over the bare bone of his face. 

The door to his cell opened and Evil-Lyn stepped inside. “I take it the mission to Phantos didn’t go well.”

“The mission to Phantos went just fine!” Skeletor snarled. He rolled over on the bed, turning his back to her and put a pillow over his head. “Elmora is gonna begin refining the mineral stockpiles we took from Krytis. Everything is proceeding exactly according to plan.”

“So, this is just you being your normal dramatic self.” She assessed. This was a bit more moody and hostile than he normally was, but Evil-Lyn would give him some time to cool down before she asked if he wanted to talk. 

She turned to leave, grabbing the handle of his cell door to close it again after her. Let the dramatic bitch have his privacy. To listen to his sad boy music and cry alone, or whatever his process was. 

“It’s just that-“ He began, sitting up on his bed. “I should be allowed to have sex with other people!”

“No one is stopping you.” She reminded him, thinking that was an odd non-sequitur. Did something happen while he was on Phantos? It couldn’t be Queen Elmora he was referring to. While she was a very attractive woman, attractive women were not what Skeletor was usually into. He tended to prefer partners of a more masculine persuasion. 

“I know!” Skeletor growled, more to himself than to her. He rubbed the brows of his skull with the heels of his hands. As if massaging sinuses that were no longer there. No one was stopping him but himself. 

“Okay then.” Evil-Lyn was even more confused now than before. She moved to leave the room again. “Glad we had this talk.”

Skeletor groaned. As if reminding himself that he was still kinda the leader of a rebel/terrorist organization and had just been away from base for some time. “Anything important happen while I was gone.”

For a quantum of a second, Evil-Lyn hesitated. 

Then she told him outright. “We had a member of the Horde inside the fortress not too long ago.”

That startled him. Skeletor almost climbed out of bed. “I hope you took care of him! How much of our operations did he see? How did he even get in the castle? Do you know if he was able to get a message off world before you took care of him? This is bad, Lyn, we gotta get on ground control right now!”

“Calm down, calm down. It’s fine.” She assured him. “He didn’t see any of our operations, I made sure of that. As far as he saw, Snake Mountain is still just an abandoned ruin. He didn’t send or receive any messages while he was here. He got in because I brought him in. And I took care of him by treating his wounds and making sure he ate something with his meds.”

If Skeletor still had a face, his expression would be nothing but lost and perplexed.

Since he didn’t have a face, he could only stare at her with his empty and unblinking eye sockets. His skull blank of any expression. “Did you lose your fucking mind?”

“It was Hec-Tor.” Evil-Lyn told him. 

Skeletor froze. 

Hec-Tor was here? In Snake Mountain. How? All Hec-Tor had of Skeletor was on still-frame image of his skull-face. He did not have the name ‘Skeletor’. He did not know Skeletor was Eternian. He sure as hell shouldn’t know Skeletor would make his base in Snake Mountain! So, what lead Prince Hec-Tor Kur here? Which of his moronic minions had fucked up?

“Do we have to move our base?” Skeletor asked very seriously. He was already brainstorming new locations they could relocate to. “How long before he brings the whole force of the Horde military down on us?”

“None. Because he’s not bringing the Horde military.” Evil-Lyn assured him. “Hec-Tor was here looking for you. But he wasn’t looking for ‘Skeletor’, he was looking for Keldor.”

For Keldor?

For some reason his chest gave a giddy little flutter at hearing that. 

But why not? Hec-Tor had spent the past five years searching for Keldor. Why stop just because he remarried? 

And Snake Mountain was a place of significance for Keldor. This was the first –real- battle he ever fought in. It was the first victory he had a direct hand in. It was where he first really felt and understood that his father never wanted him, and preferred having him out of the way. 

One of the reasons they even settled on Snake Mountain for the base was because he knew it so well. 

Snake Mountain was connected to Keldor. 

Of course Hec-Tor would come to inspect it eventually. 

Just like that Imperial investigator that connected Keldor to Snake Mountain all those years ago and Skeletor had to kill him to prevent it getting back to Hec-Tor. 

Evil-Lyn didn’t kill Hec-Tor, of course she wouldn’t, but she did at least make sure he had no reason to think Keldor was here, or Skeletor for that matter. 

Skeletor’s secret was safe, and their operations were safe. 

So why did he suddenly feel… 

…disappointed? 

“Well he’s a fool!” Skeletor finally said. Speaking louder than he needed to in the small space. Almost shouting. Sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her. “Keldor is gone!”

Evil-Lyn was unmoved. 

Her only response was to shrug. He was in a Mood again. There was just no talking to him when he was like this. “Okay.”

This time when she moved to leave, she did leave. Making sure to close the cell door behind him and give him the privacy he needed for his personal angsting. 

Skeletor rolled back over, his back to the door. 

He took off the chain he worse with his- with Keldor’s –wedding ring on it. Why hadn’t he thrown it away yet? He had plenty of opportunities to in the past five years. Opportunities to, and reasons to. But every time he decided he was going to get rid of it, something would occur to him at the last minute that would give him a flimsy excuse to keep it. He couldn’t just throw away the ring, just like he couldn’t just erase the time in his life the ring represented. 

Throwing the pillow across the room, Skeletor rolled over onto his other side. 

It was only because he lived with Hec-Tor for so long. Not just so long, but during the formative years of his young adulthood. Hell! He was barely old enough to be married by Eternian law when he was forced to marry Hec-Tor. He was still basically a child! He practically grew up with Hec-Tor. 

That was why he kept the ring. 

And that was why he kept thinking about Hec-Tor when trying to sleep with other men. 

No other reason. 

It was just a big part of his life. 

…

“I cannot do this.” Hec-Tor gasped, voice strained and breathing shallow. 

“We just started.” Keldor muttered back, voice even and level. Completely unconcerned. 

“It hurts.” Hoc-Tor informed him, groaning. 

“Just hold it a bit longer.” Keldor whispered to him. “Five seconds. You can give me five seconds.”

“I can’t!” Hec-Tor collapsed on his belly. On the floor of their quarters aboard Monstron. He rolled over onto his back, one hand pressing against his abdomen where his core muscles throbbed from the effort of holding the position. “How is that so difficult? It is just laying with your body straight! What did you call this torture?”

“The plank.” Keldor supplied. He was still holding his own plank. Stretched out on the floor of their quarters, propped up by only his forearms and his toes, his back straight, his abdominals bracing the weight of his body. “Before I left Eternia, I could hold this position for three minutes. I’ve gotten out of shape since coming to the Empire.”

Hec-Tor stood and looked down at his husband. The deltoids of his shoulders, and the latissimus dorsi of his back. All of it perfectly toned and currently flexed, showing every outline in the anatomy his back. Hec-Tor found himself having to readjust the collar of his gown, his throat feeling inexplicably tights. “There is nothing wrong with your shape.”

“Mm.” Keldor gave a non-committal sound as a reply. He continued to hold his own plank for another minute and a half before letting go and also standing. “Workouts aren’t supposed to be easy. Your muscles are supposed to feel a little strained. That’s how they improve.”

Hec-Tor only crossed his arms and frowned. 

“But it’s important not to over tax them.” Keldor added quickly. “Otherwise, instead of improving fitness, you could injure yourself.” He put his hands on his hips and leaned backwards. Bending at the waist and almost folding his body in half in a way that Hec-Tor was pretty sure bodies were not meant to fold. “Stretching is also important.”

Hand still on his abdomen –which did not hurt as much anymore- Hec-Tor only stared at his husband stretch. The way the skin of his belly pulled over the chiseled lines of his abs. How his spine curved backwards as he pulled on his core region. Keldor was definitely a peak physical specimen. 

“I cannot bend like you.” Hec-Tor informed him. 

Keldor straightened. Then brushed his hair away from his ears. “You don’t have to bend a lot. Just enough to stretch out the muscles. Otherwise they’ll tighten up and cause different problems later.”

“My body is not meant for this.” Hec-Tor informed him. If there were so many things to do –steps to remember- or else he could cause more damage to his already frail body, perhaps ‘working out’ was not an appropriate pastime for him. But, he did try to stretch a little bit. Bending back. Not very far. Leaning really. As far back as his out-of-shape body would allow him to bend. “This is as far as I can go.”

“If you keep working at it you’ll get better.” Keldor assured him. 

Hec-Tor frowned, still skeptical. 

But if he was going to argue with Keldor further, he didn’t get the chance to. Hec-Tor’s communicator beeped and a bridge officer informed him that they were coming out of hyperspace and that he was needed on the command bridge. 

“Some other time.” Hec-Tor informed his husband. He adjusted his gown, making sure the garment fell properly over him and didn’t looking rumpled like he was just flailing around on the floor like a degenerate. Then he exited their suite. 

Keldor followed him. 

Monstron was the twin of the Velvet Glove. The two ships were practically identical in every way. Even the suite of rooms Keldor shared with Hec-Tor were the same as those given to them on the Velvet Glove during their journey from Eternia. 

The only significant differences that Keldor could see, were that Prime placed a high emphasis on comfort on the Velvet Glove, with carpeting on the observation deck and more comfortable furniture in the smaller alcoves, a larger kitchen staff, and more decadent food options. While Hec-Tor liked to keep things much more practical and efficient. Monstron still had an observation deck, and alcoves. But they were not carpeted, and the furniture for sitting and watching the stars go by was minimalistic and utilitarian. The kitchen staff was military personnel, not gourmet chefs, and the food choices were just as practical and utilitarian as the décor. 

In short, the Velvet Glove was a pleasure cruise with guns, while Monstron was a real military machine. 

And Keldor liked it. 

He grew up the prince of a warrior people. He felt comfortable and at home surrounded by soldiers and war machines. Just being on Monstron was worlds more comfortable than being in the Imperial palace on Horde World. 

The ship came out of hyperspace above planet Robotica, a world populated almost entirely by robotic life. It was also a world in rebellion against the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. 

Both Admiral Sunder and Hec-Tor’s lieutenant bowed when they entered the bridge. “Your Highnesses, Prince Hec-Tor, Prince Keldor.”

Hec-Tor turned around, mildly startled. He hadn’t even realized Keldor had followed him onto the bridge. 

Keldor ignored him. If he was so unaware of his surroundings to realize that he was being followed, then he wasn’t warrior enough to command a military strike. Keldor addressed Sunder instead. “Bring us up to speed, Admiral.”

“The rebellion on Robotica began when they started refusing to pay the tithes every planet owes to the Horde Empire.” Began Sunder. That was information they already knew. The datacard had crossed Hec-Tor’s desk before they even left Horde World. It was why they were sending troops to Robotica at all. “Since dispatching a military response to address their refusal to pay, the Roboticans and our own forces have been locked in a stalemate. I have begun implementing the changes Your Highness ordered, pulling Enlisted troops and replacing them with clones. As of yet, we have not seen the scales tip in either direction.”

Hec-Tor listened to all this with a disappointed frown on his face. 

Keldor took in the information and began calculating a strategy on how to strike at the Robotican capital from what he already knew of the planet. If they could take out the Robotican master computer, they could win and put down this whole rebellion in one quick stroke. 

He was already mapping out maneuvers. How he would deploy the clones to cut through the Robotican forces. Or surround the master computer building and draw out the main Robotican force while he slipped in with a smaller, surgical force. Depending on what kind of guns they had on Monstron, they could just bomb the structure from above. But bombing a planet also risked damaging said planet’s resources and it was the resources that the Horde wanted from any given planet under its control. Hec-Tor probably wouldn’t give his approval for a bombardment. That left strategic maneuvering and surgical strikes. 

Keldor’s swords were still in their stateroom. He could run and grab his weapons really quickly and change into an armored loincloth and he ready to 

“When the battle starts,” Hec-Tor was already explaining to his Lieutenant, “you will escort Prince Keldor to our quarters and you will remain with him until I come collect him personally.”

“Like hell you will!” Keldor snapped, feeling irrationally betrayed somehow. 

Robotica was one of a handful of worlds that decided it was a good idea to start openly rebelling against the Horde Empire. It just started with refusing to pay the annual tithes to the Horde that all worlds within the Empire were required to pay, and it escalated to blowing up the local tax office and Horde garrison. 

From his office on Horde World, Hec-Tor dispatched troops to Robotica to put down the rebellion. Now, taking Keldor’s advice, Hec-Tor had come to Robotica himself to oversee a reshuffling of the troops, and the retaking of the planet. 

Keldor thought he was going to be fighting alongside the clones of his husband’s army. Charging into battle alongside his forces, as any respectable Eternian leader should. 

But Hec-Tor was not an Eternian leader, he did not think like an Eternian. He was a Prince Imperial of the Horde and he thought like an Imperial. Keldor was his husband, that made him a member of the royal family, and members of the royal family must be guarded like stolen treasures. 

“You are a Prince of this Empire.” Hec-Tor reminded him. “You will be protected.”

Keldor was unimpressed. Between the two of them, Hec-Tor was the delicate one. He needed to be protected, not Keldor. “And what will you be doing while I’m sitting alone waiting for you?”

“I am the commander of this vessel.” Hec-Tor’s posture stiffened just noticeably. “I will be commanding.”

Hec-Tor’s Lieutenant, some young, bold idiot who thought he was helping, stepped closer to Keldor. “My Prince, I would be more than happy to escort you-“

“I will snap you like a twig!” He informed the Lieutenant, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Startled, unsure, and maybe now just a little scared of the Eternian Prince, the Lieutenant backed up. 

“Do not threaten my staff.” That was the first time Hec-Tor ever came close to anything resembling ‘reprimanding’ to his husband. “They are simply doing their jobs. You are a Prince. Fighting is not for you. Fighting is for the clones.”

“I’m an Eternian Prince!” Keldor roared. 

He was raising his voice now and other officers on the bridge were beginning to notice. Hec-Tor looked behind him just in time to see more than one officer at a duty station turn their heads back around and feign attention on their consoles. 

Keldor also noticed, and he understood the importance of commanders appearing as a single unified front to their subordinates. He regulated his tone to something calmer and more controlled for his next statements. “I’m the only person on this bridge who’s actually been in combat.”

That was not true. Admiral Sunder was a veteran of many, many, many battles. (Too many battles.)

That same over-eager Lieutenant who though he was helping opened his mouth to say something. 

“Training drills are not combat.” Keldor cut him off before he could even get a word out. 

The Lieutenant shut his mouth. 

“Do you wish to command?” Hec-Tor asked. Keldor had said that he was already a veteran of multiple battles and that children on Eternia joined the military at fifteen. Even as young as he still was, he had to be knowledgeable about battle. If he could promise Hec-Tor he could behave, moderated his tone, and did not openly challenge his husband’s authority, Hec-Tor would allow Keldor to remain on the bridge and council him during the strike. 

“Yes. I wish to command.” Keldor confirmed. “From down on the battlefield, among the troops.”

“That is unaccept-“ Hec-Tor began. 

“That’s what I’m doing.” Keldor informed him. 

Then walked away. 

Leaving no room for argument and exiting the bridge with a dramatic little twirl that made his hair sweep dramatically as he stomped away. 

“Should I stop him, Your Highness?” Asked the Lieutenant. 

Hec-Tor pinched the bridge above his nasal cavity. “Alert the energizer rooms that Prince Imperial Keldor is not to leave the ship. If anyone allows him to teleport down to the planet they will be reprimanded to the full extent the facilities on this ship will allow.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Nodded the Lieutenant. They lifted their communicator to their beak to convey the Prince’s orders. 

Keldor had to make a detour back to the suite he shared with Hec-Tor to change out of his comfortable fur loincloth for lounging, and into a more practical leather and studded loincloth with light armor. He adjusted the belts across his chest making sure they allowed for maximum mobility. Took an extra moment to tie his hair back so that it didn’t fly in his face and impede his vision. Finally, he crabbed his swords and exited the suite, heading for the energizer room. 

The Enlisted running the energizer beams looked a little hesitant –maybe even scared?- that he was there. 

“Beam me down with the troops.” Keldor ordered, ignoring their obvious discomfort and stepping onto the teleportation pad. 

They did not immediately comply with his orders. 

“What’s the hold-up?” He demanded. 

Every single Enlisted member of the Horde all exchanged looks. Glancing from one to the other. Trying to decide amongst themselves which one was going to tell the Prince Imperial’s husband that they could not carry out his order. 

Finally, one stepped forward clearing their throat. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but we have orders from Prince Imperial Hec-Tor that we are not to teleport you down to the planet.”

“Well, I’m also a Prince Imperial of the Horde Empire and I’m telling you to.” Keldor snapped at them. 

They fidgeted from one foot to the other. Nervous. They did not like being caught in whatever kind of lovers quarrel or power struggle was going on between the two Princes. They just wanted to do their job, follow orders as best they could, and not get killed by Keldor or tortured by Hec-Tor for disobeying orders. 

“I’m sorry, Prince Keldor, but Prince Hec-Tor’s orders supersede your own.” They had to inform him. “We cannot disobey him.”

Keldor stepped off the energizer pad and advanced towards the Enlisted that had spoken. 

Everyone in the room believed for one brief moment that the Eternian Prince was going to kill them for refusing to follow his orders, or for choosing the orders of Hec-Tor over his, or for reminding him that Hec-Tor out ranked him. Hec-Tor was a natural born Prince of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. Keldor might be a Prince of Eternia, but he was only a Prince of the Empire by marriage. He would always be second to his husband. In all matters. 

But Keldor didn’t kill any of them. 

He glared murderously. But he didn’t draw his swords, or call upon his magic, or even raise his firsts. 

All he did was stomp past the Enlisted back out of the energizer room. Pausing for only just a moment as he past the one who had spoken to mutter to them, “You’re a good soldier,” before exiting. 

Keldor stomped back to the bridge, baring in on Hec-Tor dictating to Sunder where to teleport and deploy the new clones. 

Hec-Tor looked up at him and a self-satisfied grin spread over his face. He probably though he’d won something. “Ah, Beloved, have you reconsidered and would like to stand at my side as I command this strike?”

Pausing in his step, Keldor took a moment to remind himself that they were on the bridge of Hec-Tor’s flagship, surrounded by officers that were loyal to Hec-Tor. Hec-Tor was the one in power here. Something his short visit to the energizer room just reminded him of. Plastering what he hoped was an affectionate looking expression on his face, Keldor tried to reason with his husband. “My Love, I apologize for speaking out of turn before, perhaps I misunderstood the intension in allowing me to accompany you on this mission. Horde Prima Par-Is made it sound as if I would be participating in the battles.”

That self-satisfied smile melted into something oddly forlorn. “Par-Is is my sister and I love her dearly.” He began. “But she has been kept within the Imperial capital all her life. She is sheltered from the rest of the universe and, because of that, does not understand war.” 

Keldor remembered his first outing with Par-Is. How she was subtly manipulating the youth of the Empire, grooming new generations of soldiers to fill the ranks of the Horde. Keldor felt Par-Is knew much more about war and strategy than the men of her family realized. But, then, maybe she probably preferred it that way. If she was underestimated, then she was not seen as a threat, and Keldor already knew she wanted to replace her older brother with her twin. He said nothing to contradict Hec-Tor’s statement. Maybe Par-Is didn’t want him to know how formidable she could be either. 

“A Prince Imperial does not fight on the ground with the fodder.” Hec-Tor continued to explain. “A Prince commands!” A pause. “-From the superior perspective of the command bridge.” 

He made a dramatically wide sweep to indicate the whole of the command bridge with its many consoles and work stations. All of them displaying tactical information. Troop numbers. Terrain layout. Climate. Various communication frequencies. And a myriad of other factors that contributed to the victory or loss of any given battle. 

When the sweep of his arm was done, Hec-Tor held that same hand out to Keldor. “You are more than welcome to join me on the command bridge. Your own experience as a war commander would be a welcome addition to our arsenal.”

Keldor looked at the extended hand. Dark blue-gray skin that melted into sharp blue-gray talons. Palm open and inviting. He looked up at the bridge again. Ignoring the Enlisted sitting at the consoles and instead focusing on the consoles themselves. Already telling Hec-Tor everything he thought he needed to know about strategy and battle. Even if Keldor did have anything to add, Hec-Tor wouldn’t listen to it. 

He ran a hand through his hair, hooking an ebony strand behind one pointed ear. “This is not how Eternians make war.”

“I’ve given strict instructions to the energizer staff not to-“ Hec-Tor began. 

“I won’t be bothering the energizer staff.” Keldor assured him, already having decided on what he was going to do. One could never keep an Eternian warrior from battle once they decided on fighting. “I think I’ll just go back to our room.”

“I think that’s for the best.” Hec-Tor agreed. That same self-satisfied smile on his face. He still thought he had won here. He crossed the space between them and leaned down to kiss Keldor on the mouth. “I’ll join you there when this is done.”

Keldor did not kiss back. But he did flutter his eyelashes and look up at Hec-Tor. “Nothing gets the blood up quite like a good fight.”

Hec-Tor blinked, suddenly realizing. “This was our first fight.” Now his smile was no longer self-satisfying, but anticipating and suggestive. “I’ve heard that making up after is quite rewarding.”

Keldor had no planned response to that, so he just said, “I’ll leave you to your command bridge.” And left. 

What he told Hec-Tor wasn’t a lie. He did not bother the staff in the energizer room again, and he did go back to their quarters. 

What he did not tell Hec-Tor was that he didn’t need to be beamed down by the staff of the energizer room. He would have just preferred it to conserve his magic. If he could not get down to the planet through the use of technology, then he would just use his sorcery instead. 

He pulled out the books that he brought with him on this mission. It was not his full library of magical text that he took with him when he left Eternia. It was just a select few that focused on battle magics. But Keldor was sure that one of them had a teleportation spell in it. Travel spells were just as important to battle as killing spells were. 

A few pages and some frustrated attempts to draw a circle later, and Keldor was on the ground on Robotica, surrounded by the Horde’s clone troopers. 

The clones recognized him as Prince Imperial Keldor, even if they did not understand why he was there. They were not programmed to understand. Without a single sound being exchanged between them, or even a nod of communication, four clones broke from the formation to take up defensive positions around Keldor. Hmph. At least the clones were didn’t hassle or argue with him about fighting in a battle. The clones were just like ‘this is happening now’ and adjusted. 

Maybe the clones were not quite as mindless as Keldor first thought. Maybe there was an intelligence behind those serene pale faces. 

He ran up a ramp to some kind of scenic overlook that offered Keldor a view of the compound that housed Robotica’s master computer. Searching for an easier entrance than the front. The Horde was formidable. There was a reason they were called ‘the Horde’. But, as Keldor learned reading over the data in Hec-Tor’s office, their well of troops was not infinit. Nobody outside the upper echelons of command were aware of it, but the Horde barely had the numbers to continue to maintain their Empire the way they have been all these generations. Over-expansion had spread their military thin, weakening their power. 

At the moment, the Great and Eternal Horde Empire was surviving off of reputation and fear alone. 

Keldor needed to change that. 

His eyes scanned the cityscape. Robot buildings had no sewers. Robots had no need of indoor plumbing or bio-waste management. But they did need to pump in coolant and vent exhaust. There would still be the equivalent of ‘sewers’ on a robot-inhabited planet. Exhaust vents would be high up and hard to reach. But coolant could be pumped up from street-level. 

And there it was! 

A hatch just a bit bigger than an Eternian manhole. On the road, just outside the central control building. 

Keldor turned around, nodding to the four clones that already flanked him, taking up the mantle of the Prince’s honor guard. “Feel like getting dirty?”

The clones did not answer. They only offered quick bows to acknowledge that they had heard him. Their faces remaining as impassive and serene as they always were. 

Keldor sighed back at them before turning his attention back to the tasks at hand. Fighting with clones wasn’t going to be any fun. There was no comradery or banter between soldiers? Hell! The Roboticans they were fighting had more personality than the Horde clones did. 

“I’m so embarrassed! I wish everybody else was dead!” Exclaimed one bot as Keldor severed a leg joint with one blade before stabbing through its central chest plate with the other. 

“My life –and by extension, everyone else’s- is pointless.” Groaned another just before Keldor hacked through the column of its neck. 

“Bite my shiny metal ass!” Spat a third as it broke a glass bottle of liquid fuel (alcohol) and threatened Keldor with the jagged and sharp end. 

“It doesn’t look that shiny to me.” Keldor pointed out as he parried the broken bottle with the flat of his blade. If he couldn’t banter with his comrades, he would banter with the enemies before he killed them.

“It’s shinier than yours, meat-bag.” 

Meanwhile, up on Monstron, one of the bridge officers look up from their screen. Nervous and hesitant. Clearly not wanting to report the information they were seeing, but know they had to for face a court-martial –or worse. “Uh- uh- Your Highness…?” They ventured, sounding more shaky and uncomfortable than any officer of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire had any business sounding. “Prince- Prince Keldor is down on the planet, Your Highness.”

“What!?” 

No one on the bridge had ever seen Prince Imperial Hec-Tor’s eyes go so big. 

He marched over to the work station, leaning over the terrified officer to see for himself exactly what they were looking at that would prompt them to report such an absurd- Fuck! Hec-Tor very clearly saw. Yes. That was his new husband down there on the planet, cutting down Roboticans with twin gold and purple swords. 

Of all the dumb, suicidal, stupid, self-destructive, idiotic, masochistic, insane- When Keldor was back on the ship Hec-Tor was going to- He didn’t actually know what he was going to do. He was just that mad! Where the hell does he get off-!? How the hell did he get off!? How did Keldor even get down there!?

“Someone in the energizer room is going to die for this.” He muttered, more to himself than the officer he was leaning over who heard him quite clearly. Taking a step back, Hec-Tor addressed an officer at a different station. “Call the energizer room! Have them beam the Prince back aboard! And I want the one who let him down there in first place! I gave very clear orders that he was not to leave the ship! There will be dire consequences for this level of insubordination! They will be strung and drawn! They will-“

“Your Highness-“ The officer speaking to the energizer room tried to begin in a soft voice, just barely above a whisper. They were afraid of the Prince as well. Space bats were terrifying when they were in a rage, and the scuttlebutt was that Prince Hec-Tor actually liked his arranged marriage and his husband. It was his love in danger down there. “The energizer room reports that they cannot get a lock on the Prince to teleport him. They- they are reporting magical interference, Your Highness.” 

Hec-Tor focused the full weight of his crimson-eyed glare on the new officer. 

They shrunk back in their seat, as if the chair could protect them from the Prince’s ire. “As- as we know, magic and technology do not often mix and Prince Imperial Keldor is a sorcerer.”

It couldn’t just be that Keldor was a sorcerer. Otherwise he would not have tried to get the energizer room to beam him down in the first place. He would have already known that it wouldn’t have worked. Keldor had to be intentionally blocking them from recalling him to the ship somehow. 

Hec-Tor gave a feral and animalistic sounding snarl. “Get me a com channel to the Prince.”

Every officer on the bridge turned around to focus on their stations, each trying to figure out a way to fulfill the Prince’s demand. Even Hec-Tor’s Lieutenant began pulling up information on melding magic and technology to work together. 

Down on the planet, in the midst of the battle, one of Keldor’s clone guard tapped him on the shoulder. The action distracted him and he had to use the spell Push to throw three Roboticans back, smashing them into a line of the comrades before it was safe for him to acknowledge the clone. 

“What!?” He demanded. “I’m busy!”

The clone only took a communicator earbud out of his own ear and passed it to Keldor. It said nothing, but the message was clear. Someone up on Monstron wanted to talk to him. 

Keldor took the earbud, wiped it off on his belts, and stuck it in his ear. “Hey, my love, I didn’t think you’d call me at work.”

He cut down another robot. 

“You are not at work.” Hec-Tor’s voice growled in his ear. “I am at work. You are getting yourself killed!”

“I am?” Keldor asked as he buried one sword in the chest plate of one Robotican while he used the second sword to direct a spell at another. “Oh. I must be doing a pretty bad job of it, I’m barely even injured.”

There was some kind of feral growl on the other end of the line that –hearing it without seeing Hec-Tor’s nightmare face, and in the heat of the battle- sent an excited little tingle down Keldor’s spine that had nothing to do with the machine lubricant that was spraying all over him from the next Robotican he cut down. Whatever arousal he might have felt, however, evaporated with Hec-Tor’s next world. 

“Deactivate whatever magical interference you have placed upon yourself and allow yourself to be beamed back onto the ship.” His husband commanded. 

“Magical interference?” Keldor kicked a robot in the middle gyroscope, unbalancing the device and sending the bot tumbling into its comrades. “Oh! You mean my shield! Sorry. But that little bit of magic is the only think keeping me from actually getting wounded for real. I won’t be letting that down until I’m done here.”

“Keldor,” Hec-Tor sounded almost like he was pleading now, “a battlefield is not place for a Prince. Your place is behind the lines with the commanders. Your place is with me.”

Keldor was at the entrance he was trying to get to now. The slightly-larger-than-an-Eternian manhole cover. Keldor pointed to the clones that accompanied him, then down to the cover. Silently indicating for them to lift it for him while he was on the phone with the hubby. 

“Kkckckkc. What was that?” Keldor made his best approximation of a static sound with his mouth. “You’re breaking up, my love. Kkckckkc. I can’t here you. Kkckckkc.”

He took the earbud out of his ear and passed it back to- one of the clones. He honestly wasn’t sure if it was the same one who gave it to him in the first place. Keldor could not tell the clones apart. They were clones. They were identical. One was exactly the same as all the others. 

The manhole cover open now, Keldor jumped through. 

The clones jumped down after him, forming another defensive diamond around him. They might not speak, but at least they were competent. 

Together, the party made their way through the spent coolant ‘sewers’, to gain access to the building that housed the Robotican central computer. 

Up on Monstron, Hec-Tor roared and snarled. Snapping at anyone who dared make eye contact with him. 

Did Brother know just how crazy the Eternian Prince was when he arranged their marriage? Sneaking out of the castle and picking fights in bars was one thing. But this was war! People died in war! Not just soldiers but non-military casualties too! Keldor was a Prince. Royalty. Royalty did not belong on the battlefield! What was Keldor thinking!? He was wild! Feral! Absolutely savage! 

He better come back alive! Because Hec-Tor was going to kill him!

He better come back alive! Because- because Hec-Tor really liked that half-mad, half-wild Eternian Prince. He’d even go so far as to say he was in love with him. When Keldor wasn’t pulling insane stunts like this, he was soft and gentle. Sweet and accommodating. He liked to read. Lounging around wearing next to nothing at all –as Eternians did- and looking just absolutely delicious draped over the palace cushions. They were still getting to know each other, but Keldor was already very special to him. 

If he didn’t come back alive… 

“Your Highness…?” Ventured one of the bridge officers. 

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. They were about to report that Keldor was dead. Killed in the battle he had no business being in in the first place. The stupid, beautiful, idiot! 

It took Hec-Tor a moment to get his voice under control before he was able to acknowledge. “Report.”

“The Roboticans are all falling, Your Highness.” They announced. “We won.”

Oh. Well that was good. But… “And what of Prince Keldor?”

“Unable to locate, Your Highness.” The officer was regretful to have to report. “We lost track of him shortly after he disconnected your communication.”

“Find him!” Hec-Tor ordered. 

Down on the planet, squads of clone troopers were lined up outside the central computer building, searching for a way in. They didn’t know why the enemy suddenly all just fell down. But that didn’t change the fact that they still had an objective to complete. 

Then, the massive blastdoors of the building began to open. Sliding on tracks, and retracting into the wall. Agonizingly slowly. The sound of metal sliding against metal grating on the ears. But not a single clone winced. 

Prince Imperial Keldor swaggered out. 

Dripping in machine oil, coolant, grease, and a little bit of blood that might have been his own or might have been spatter from one of the clones that accompanied him. He stepped out of the building enough to be clearly visible from the sky, and smirked up at the light behind the clouds that had to be Monstron in its stationary orbit. He held his smirk long enough to be sure that someone would have seen it on their monitors. Then turned back to the clones in front of him. 

Keldor sheathed his swords and lowered his magical shield. Walking down the lines of clones, slapping their hands as if they were friends. “Good war, good war, good war, good-“

Then he was enveloped in electric green light and teleported back up onto the ship. 

“-war.”

Keldor found himself no longer standing on the surface of planet Robotica, and instead on display in the center of the teleportation pad in the energizer room of Monstron. All those same Enlisted officers looking just as nervous as they did before. Only this time with the added bonus of Prince Hec-Tor standing front and center. Tall. Imposing. A dark scowl on his face. Feet planted and arms crossed. Everything about him radiating frustration, concern, and barely contained rage. Keldor had seen that face, and that posture on his father enough times to know when he was in serious trouble. 

The difference was, Hec-Tor was not his parent. Hec-Tor was his spouse, and –presumably- his equal. 

“My love!” Keldor plastered the brightest smile on his face that he could. Considering that he just came back from a victorious battle and was feeling more like himself than he had since before his wedding, the smile was actually genuine. “We’re victorious!”

“And you’re a damn fool!” Hec-Tor snarled back. 

Keldor stepped down from the teleportation pad, tracking the grit of his battle with him. Dripping oils and lubricants on the immaculately polished floor, leaving greasy black footprints with each step. “We won, didn’t we?” He was still smiling. “And we did it quickly without losing very many clones, right?”

“You disobeyed my direct orders and could have been killed.” Hec-Tor informed him. He took his own step closer to Keldor, closing the space between them and looming over the shorter man. Trying to use his height to intimidate him. A low growl in the back of his throat, giving voice to the roiling emotions he felt about his husband placing himself in such needless danger. 

Keldor listened to that low, animalistic growl. Looking up at Hec-Tor. He was so much taller than him. He could be imposing when he wanted to be. He wasn’t very wide, or well muscles. But he did block the overhead lights and cast Keldor into shadow. And that feral sounding growl that he was not managing to contain at all. Fuck! Nothing got the blood up quite like a good fight, and Keldor had just come from a very good fight, and his blood was up. 

Hec-Tor had never seemed attractive to Keldor before. But here he was, already horny from war, and here Hec-Tor was, big enough to block out the light, and growling like a beast. 

Standing on the tips of his toes, Keldor stretched up. Hands taking hold of the sides of the space bat’s face and closing his eyes. Keldor mashed his lips against Hec-Tor’s in a clumsy kiss. Using his tongue to force the other’s mouth open to turn that clumsy kiss into an outright sloppy one. His pelvis grinding against Hec-Tor for everyone in the energizer room to see. 

Strong hands on his shoulders pushed Keldor away. Hec-Tor holding his at arm’s length. 

“I’ve never felt more alive.” Keldor informed him, licking Hec-Tor’s spit off his lips. 

His hair was soaked with robot-gore from the battle and it dripped darkly on the floor. He did not look attractive in the slightest. The kiss had tasted of machine oil, metallic and basic. Keldor looked like a filthy urchin, nothing like a Prince at all. Most unbecoming, and very unattractive. 

But Hec-Tor felt his throat go tight at that kiss anyway. His spouse was –inexplicably- aroused, and that had its affects on him. 

Hec-Tor straightened his posture and adjusted the collar of his gown. He snapped his fingers and two clones appeared at his side, ready to carry out the Prince’s any command. “Prince Keldor is over-excited from his ordeal.” He announced. “Escort him back to our quarters. I’ll deal with him later.”

Later wasn’t all that much later. 

Most of the post-battle tasks could be completed with Admiral Sunder and his Lieutenant overseeing them. Hec-Tor did not need to stay. He only returned to the bridge and remained there long enough so as not give the appearance that he was rushing off to his very clearly aroused husband. Such base behavior would be unbecoming and undignified for a Prince of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. 

Besides, Keldor didn’t deserve to know that he made Hec-Tor horny with just one really bad kiss. 

What Keldor deserved was a very strongly worded lecture on following orders, insubordination, and undermining Hec-Tor’s authority on his own ship. 

The clone guards were still outside the entrance to their quarters. Hopefully that meant that Keldor was still inside and hadn’t teleported himself somewhere else just to continue to frustrate Hec-Tor. 

When he first stepped into the stateroom they shared, that was Hec-Tor’s initial fear. That Keldor had, once again, used his magic to teleport himself some place else. 

There was a wide circle drawn on the floor, where just hours before the both of them had been doing their exercises and stretches. It now sported a wide circle with complicated magical symbols drawn inside it, forming multiple smaller interlocking rings. The bed was piled with books. Not datacards, actual books. Velum or paper pages, leather covers, and handwritten text. One of which lay open to a page that displayed a smaller version of the very circle that was currently drawn on the stateroom floor. 

Hec-Tor picked the book up, still fearing Keldor had left again and hoping the magical tome’s pages could offer an explanation for where he had gone this time. 

But the book was written in Garish. Not even middle-Eternian, but the language of the Gar. A small ethnic group that mostly remained insulated from the rest of the Eternian mainland, and rarely left their island of Anwat Gar. Keldor’s mother was a Gar sorceress. She probably taught Keldor to read it. But Hec-Tor could not decipher a single word. 

Moving the books to the side, Hec-Tor sat down on the bed. Where had Keldor gone now? How was he going to find him and bring him back this time?

No sooner had these thoughts occurred to him than the door to the refresher opened and Keldor stepped out. 

Hec-Tor sprang to his feet. Keldor hadn’t gone anywhere. He was just taking a much needed bath. Getting the filth of the battle off of himself. Particles of the cleansing powder they used for dust baths aboard the ship still clung to him. Standing out white against the natural dusky blue color of his skin. Particularly in his hair. The straight and ebony strands falling in front of his ears, and dark curly hairs between his legs. 

Hec-Tor watched him step out of the refresher, naked but for the last vestiges of the cleansing powder. Freshly cleaned. Hair falling over his shoulders. Muscles rippling under that dusky blue skin. For the space of a breath, Hec-Tor forgot why he was angry with him. All he wanted to do was cross the room and return his kiss from earlier in the energizer room. 

But he didn’t. 

He was supposed to be angry with Keldor. Hec-Tor forcibly reminded himself that he disobeyed orders, undermined his own authority aboard the ship, embarrassed him in front of his subordinates, and –worst of all- Keldor placed himself in mortal danger! Hec-Tor was not going to kiss Keldor for that. Princes who did that did not get kisses! 

Keldor brushed a lock of hair back over his shoulder. “Do you have something to say, or are you just gonna glare at me?”

He combed his fingers through the strands to try and get out more of the cleansing powder. He did not like the dust baths, preferring instead to submerse himself in water to bath. But he also recognized the practicality of conserving water on a space ship. 

In all honestly, Hec-Tor didn’t know what to say. He had too many feelings right now and not enough words for them. 

“You lied to me.” Hec-Tor blurted out. 

Keldor froze. His fingers in mid-stroke through his hair. He looked at his husband, startled and oddly plaintive. As if he’d just been caught in something he should feel guilt over. 

“When?” Keldor demanded. 

“After I offered to let you stay on the bridge and counsel me.” Hec-Tor thought it was a little odd that he had to clarify so recent an even. 

“Oh.” Keldor looked visibly relieved. He resumed attempting to comb the cleansing powder out of his hair. “No I didn’t. I did exactly what I said I would do. I didn’t both the energizer staff again, and I came straight back to our room.”

He kicked the chalk on the floor, smudging his magical circle. Then crossed the room, brushing past Hec-Tor and began gathering up all the books he left on the bed. 

Hec-Tor watched all of this. Admiring the muscles of his back, as they dipped into the curve of his ass, how he could see his balls when he bent over to pick up the books. He caught himself licking his lips and forced his mouth to close, clenching his teeth. He was angry at Keldor right now. He was not going to let this shameless Eternian without the slightest shred of modesty distract him from that. 

“You disobeyed my orders.” It was weird that he was having to spell this out for Keldor. Was he not also a Prince? Did they not have a proper chain of command on Eternia? Did he not understand that a commander must not be openly challenged by his peers in front of their subordinates? Keldor was smart. He had to know that leadership needed to present the illusion of unity. 

“Did you order me not to go down there?” Keldor asked. “You ordered your officers not to teleport me from the ship. And you said a Prince’s place was on the bridge. But I don’t recall you ever saying ‘Keldor, I command you not to go’.”

“I shouldn’t have to give you a direct order for you to do what I want!” Hec-Tor shouted, raising his voice even though it was not necessary in the enclosed space. 

Keldor slammed the stack of books down on the bedside table. He spun around, long hair whipping with the sudden motion. “And what about what I want!?” He demanded. “Not counting one hour when I went out with Par-Is, once, this trip is the first time I’ve been out of the Imperial palace since we married. I have been locked up like a caged bird and I can’t stand it! I need to get out! I need to do things! I body craves action! Fighting. Bloodletting. Drinking! Fuck! I haven’t had a fucking drink since our wedding toast!” 

“If you wish to have some alcohol, I can arrange for something to be brought to you.” Hec-Tor promised him. “But I cannot having you undermining-“

“I wish to do what I want!” Keldor snapped. “Am I your spouse of your concubine? Am I supposed to be your equal or your pet? Because I’m being handled like one of those and it’s not the one I thought I’d be when we married.”

“At the moment you’re neither!” Hec-Tor snapped. “You are whining like a petulant child! If I carried don like this, Brother never would have entrusted me with the responsibilities and privileges that I have. We must first do what we’re told before we can do what we want.”

Keldor opened his mouth to say something. 

But Hec-Tor cut him off. “You are my husband, and my husband is supposed to be my equal. But, I cannot have you challenging me in front of my crew. I cannot have to disregarding my wishes and disobeying my orders in front of my crew. If you act as if my rules and commands mean nothing, you are saying to those who are my subordinates that my commands are meaningless and my authority is firm.” 

Keldor flopped down on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest with an audible ‘hmph’. 

“You will be confined to our quarters until we reach our next destination.” Hec-Tor announced. 

Keldor was expecting that. After a stunt like the one he pulled, the commander of the ship (Hec-Tor) would have to reprimand him somehow. He couldn’t let insubordination go unpunished. He understood. 

That still didn’t meant he had to like it. Keldor’s frown deepened and he gave Hec-Tor a very resentful glare so that the other man would know exactly how displeased he was. Maybe if Par-Is were here she could mediate their fight. She was quite adept at smoothing things over between them. But Par-Is was back on Horde World. It was just Keldor, alone with the knowledge and skills he learned from his mother, to show him how to behave towards his husband. 

“However,” Hec-Tor began again, “you did perform exceedingly well during the ground battle. If you do not cause any more problems for the duration of our journey to our next destination, and accept your punishment with dignity, I will allow you to command our ground forces when we attack Zal-Kron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually supposed to end with another lemon, but it’s almost 9k words and that’s just too long to make it even longer by adding a sex-scene. Just know that they fucked again immediately after this conversation.


	28. Somethings Take Longer Than Others

The lower back and lumbar support Entrapta added to his new armor was amazing! Hec-Tor hadn’t been this comfortable or at ease at his desk in years! He was so comfortable! And without the distraction of mild lower back pain, he was able to get so much more work done. He was so efficient! 

And, according to his health tracker app, he also had not lost any additional weight since his conversation with Entrapta. He hadn’t gained any of it back yet, but a halt to the loss was still a huge win! 

Today was going to be a good day. 

During his lunch break, Hec-Tor even felt well enough to take a walk around the Crypto Castle. 

The passages weren’t as spacious or well-lit as the Imperial palace on Horde World. They were narrower, the ceilings were lower, the lighting was poor. But that was just the aesthetic. Dark and complicated. Hec-Tor was sure that, were it not for the tracker app on his data pad or his administrator privileges, he definitely would have gotten lost. 

He passed more than one of his own Enlisted Horde soldiers that were lost. So distraught and sobbing that they barely managed to comport themselves as Hec-Tor passed. Even with tracker apps, the Crypto Castle could be a torturous labyrinth to try and navigate if said tracker app didn’t have administrator privileges. 

Using his data pad, Hec-Tor arranged their paths to send any lost and distraught Enlisted he passed to lead them to the kitchens where they could get a cup of some soothing hot beverage from Baker and reorient themselves. Baker had become the unofficial caretaker of the lost and distraught Enlisted. 

Normally, the Prince would reprimand a soldier for being brought so low by a mere castle. But his muscle pain was at an all-time low and he was in a good mood. 

Once out of sight of the latest Enlisted, he stretched. Feeling how the armor moved with him, like a part of him. A second skin. As opposed to moving around him like his old armor did. Entrapta’s design truly was wonderful! He should stop in her lab before his lunch break was over and complement her work. 

Fingers dancing over the touch screen of his datapad, Hec-Tor mapped out the most efficient rout that would take him to Entrapta’s lab. 

He heard her before he ever got to the lab. 

Entrapta’s high nasal voice shouting over the sounds of machine gears straining, and the uncomfortable screech of metal scraping against metal. 

Slamming his palm down on the door release, the door to the lab was thrown wide open and he saw Entrapta using all of her hair to fend off a robot that was attacking her. 

The design was similar to the ones they were already producing on the assembly lines and had even shipped to Horde World. But there were obvious modifications made to the exterior casing, leg joints, and weapons. Clearly, Entrapta was working on upgrading and improving on the current design and her new mock-up decided to take issue with their creator. 

Hec-Tor sprinted into the lab. 

“I command you to release her!” He shouted at the bot. 

Technically, the bot wasn’t holding Entrapta. Entrapta was holding the bot with her hair in her efforts to keep the bot from squishing her. When the machine turned around, Entrapta turned with it. Hovering above the bot on her hair. 

“Ah. Hi, Hec-Tor!” She smiled at him as if she hadn’t just been fighting for her life against one of her own creations. “You don’t usually come to my lab. Did we have a meeting I forgot about? Or maybe something with your armor? I’m a little busy at the moment, but I’d be happy to help as soon as I get this girl to calm down.”

She smiled again. 

The bot she was still holding onto with her hair tried to slash him with one of its needle-like legs. 

Hec-Tor managed to jump out of the way. He raised his arm, as if to shoot the bot with an arm canon. But he was on his lunchbreak from an average workday and was not wearing his arm canon. 

“Damn it.” He muttered. Then shouted, “Entrapta! How do I disable the machine?”

“Disable?” Entrapta echoed as the bot tried to shake her off. “She doesn’t need to be disabled. She’s just having an existential crisis.”

Reaching one of its needle-like legs up, the bot swiped at the tendrils of hair holding it. Trying to brush the scientist off its domed top. Another leg swung out to try and hit Hec-Tor. But he dropped the ground fast and rolled under a work table to avoid the blow. The robot threw the table across the room, but Hec-Tor remained unharmed. 

“You see, I was trying to soup-up the AI.” Entrapta began explaining as her creation continued to trash her lab, seemingly trying to murder her husband. “So I made her self-aware, and I was still in the coding screen, and all these lines of data just started scrolling across the screen, and I wasn’t typing them. It took me a minute to realize that she was asking who she was, and what her purpose in life was, why she was created, did she have to be what she was made for, could she be something other than a weapon if she wanted.” 

The bot dug deep gashes into the floor as she clawed at Hec-Tor. 

“Anyway, I might have taken too long in answering her.” Continued Entrapta as if she weren’t holding onto the raging machine that was trashing her lab. “Because she started freaking out and now it’s escalated into a full-on nervous breakdown. She just needs some soothing music and an understanding ear who knows how to type out complicated philosophical questions in binary.”

Hec-Tor found his back against a wall. “Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, happy that he understood. “Actually, it’s great you’re here. If you could keep her distracted for a moment, I can get to the terminal and start typing.”

“Wait-“ But his protest was cut off abruptly by the need to quickly jump out of the way of the rampaging robot. 

Entrapta did not hesitate to take the opportunity. While the bot was momentarily distracted by her husband, she used her hair to swing across the lab and dangle in front of her main terminal. Tendrils of hair danced over the keys, typing out all that she knew about popular philosophy in binary to appease the new bot’s existential crisis. 

Together, they finally managed to calm the robot down. 

Hec-Tor leaned against a worktable, breathing hard, his adrenaline pumping. It was not unlike how he felt after an outing with Keldor. Entrapta could be like him in some ways, they both elicited equal amounts of excitement and dread in the Horde Prince Imperial. Neither marriage was dull. That was for sure. 

Entrapta patted the robot on the dome. “That’s a good girl.” She cooed at the weapon. “I think I’ll call her Emily.”

That seemed like such a dissonantly gentle name for such a dangerous machine. But then, it was Entrapta’s machine, she could name it as she pleased. Name her. The bot was apparently self-aware and had identified using she/her pronouns. Emily was Entrapta’s machine and she could name her as she pleased. 

“So, did we?” Entrapta finally asked when she was done petting her new bot. 

“Did we what?” Hec-Tor was confused. 

“Have a meeting I forgot about.” She clarified. “I have a problem losing track of time when I work. But I usually set alarms if there’s something important I have to do. I should have set an alarm for our meeting. I’m sorry I didn’t. Was it important?”

“We did not have a meeting.” Hec-Tor assured her. “I am simply on by lunch break for the day and I- …wanted to see you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks colored, the coppery-tan of her cheeks tinting a very attractive shade of rose. 

Hec-Tor found it thoroughly attractive. 

When Keldor flushed, he turned an odd shade of purple, the red of his blood and the blue of his skin coming together awkwardly. Hec-Tor mentally checked himself. If he was every going to move on from Keldor, he would need to stop comparing Entrapta to him in his mind. Keldor was gone and not coming back. Comparing Entrapta to him would not change that. Entrapta was not Keldor and comparing her to him was unfair to her. 

Entrapta’s blush was pleasing to see. There was no need to compare her blush to another’s. 

“Would you like to show me what you were working on before your- Emily became distressed?” He offered. 

“You wanna hear about my personal projects!” She did a cartwheel on her hair. 

Hec-Tor suddenly found himself entwined in tendrils of her hair and whisked off his feet. Entrapta carried him over to her monitor and began explaining her latest side-project. Making A.I.s so advanced that robots were self-aware. There were a number of robotic races in the universe, but none of them were able to trace their histories far enough back to any kind of creator. Entrapta endeavored to create a robot so independent, that it would be indistinguishable from any member of any other alien race. 

“That is quite the ambition.” Hec-Tor commented. 

“I just wanna see what happens.” Entrapta replied. “That’s what scientific exploration is all about, trying new things and seeing what happens! It’s so exciting!”

Hec-Tor thought about when he first came in and the newly christened Emily was attacking everything. “Exciting is definitely one way to describe it.”

Entrapta drifted closer to him, using her hair to place herself at the same height as him. They were on an equal level, their eyes meeting, and Entrapta flushed again. That same attractive shade of rose. “I like exciting things. Excitement makes things interesting.”

“And you like interesting things as well.” Hec-Tor nodded. He was only peripherally aware that his body was drifting closer to hers, and the thought of kissing her crossed his mind. 

Hec-Tor wasn’t sure if he should. He had only just recently resolved to move past the grief of his first marriage and put Keldor behind him. But was it too soon to start initiating physical advances with Entrapta? She had not clearly indicated to him that such advances would be welcome. She did admit that she found him interesting, and she liked interesting things. So she liked him too. 

But liking someone and wanting something to kiss her were two different things. Hec-Tor did not want to make her uncomfortable. 

“I’m always thinking of things that might be interesting.” Entrapta continued. 

Her face was so close to his, Hec-Tor could feel her breath on his lips. His mouth parted in case she did want to kiss. But he did not want to assume her closeness was for that. Entrapta had shown multiple times already that she did not always realize when she was too close within someone else’s space. Her closeness could be nothing more than innocent excitement over her projects, and not trying to initiate anything intimate at all. 

On the monitor screen they were standing beside, a window popped up with readouts from Hec-Tor’s armor that monitored his vital signs. The pop-up window was informing them that his heart rate was increasing, and his breathing was becoming shallower. 

The monitor went ignored, however, as both their attentions were focused on the other. 

“What kinds of interesting things are you thinking of?” He asked. 

“I was thinking about intercourse-“

She was cut off when the door to the lab slid open and Grizzlor walked in. 

He stopped short when he saw them together. Standing so close their bodies were almost touching. Their faces so close they were almost kissing. 

Grizzlor’s knee-jerk reaction was to give the Prince and Princess their privacy and come back later. Except the thing he was coming to tell the Prince was important. His skin feeling hot under his fir, Grizzlor averted his eyes and delivered the message he came to deliver. 

“Apologies, Your Highnesses, but Horde Prime is calling for the Prince.”

Hec-Tor took a very large step back from Entrapta and smoothed out his already immaculate gown. “I shall take the call in my office.”

He left. 

Grizzlor cast an apologetic look back at Entrapta before following the Prince out. She was very red in the face and looked equal parts embarrassed and frustrated. She slammed her welding mask down over her face and turned her back to Grizzlor. 

He followed the Prince Imperial back to the office. 

Sitting down in his seat, Hec-Tor straightened his posture and smoothed his hair, making sure he looked presentable enough to take a call from the Emperor of the Known Universe, before picking up the call. 

The Hold screen on Hec-Tor’s terminal was replaced with the face of Horde Prime. 

“Brother, it pleases me to hear from you.” Hec-Tor assured him. “I trust you received our first shipment of weapons. Entrapta’s work is without parallel. She-“

“Spare me, Little Brother.” Prime cut him off before Hec-Tor could finish his praise of his new wife’s technical skills. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Thrown off by his brother’s open hostility, Hec-Tor just stared at the terminal screen. More confused than usual by his brother’s mercurial moods. “I am overseeing your weapons production, as you commanded, Brother.”

“And are all your Lieutenants and assistants with you?” Pressed the Emperor in irritation. 

“Yes.” Hec-Tor nodded, still confused. Brother was so mad, but Hec-Tor still had no idea over what. 

“Then, please explain to me, brother, how your thumb print and clearance were able to be used in a plot by our enemies!” Demanded Horde Prime. 

“My clearance?” Hec-Tor was still confused. “My thumbprint!?”

“You have a security problem in your house, brother.” Horde Prime informed him. “A security problem which you will rectify. I want the situation rectified and the responsible parties brought back to me on Horde World.” 

“My security is beyond reproach!” Hec-Tor was insulted on behalf of his soldiers. He was very diligent about security, both on his ship and within the Crypto Castle. It wasn’t just Imperial Horde interests his security protected, it was his son too. Hec-Tor did not tolerate lapses in security. 

“It is a problem with your security.” Insisted Horde Prime, “because if it is not, the alternative would be worse for you.”

The accusation was veiled, but very thinly. Brother was accusing Hec-Tor of committing treason. Of intentionally giving his thumbprint and the Imperial clearance that went with it, to the Empire’s enemies. 

“I will see to the matter personally.” Hec-Tor assured him. “This breach will not go uncheck.”

“It better not.” Horde Prime agreed. Then ended the call. 

Hec-Tor stared at his reflection in the dark terminal screen. 

With a sigh, he interlaced his fingers and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the desk. 

With a groan, he commanded Grizzlor to look up the incident Horde Prime was referring to and bring him all reports and files they had on it. He wanted security footage, the originals, not copies, or cuts. He wanted first-hand accounts, not transcriptions. He wanted the names of all the Enlisted involved. And he wanted any clones to report for their minds to be downloaded. 

He-Tor wanted to know how an enemy of the Empire could get their claws on his fingerprint.


End file.
